Eagle Soars
by e-dog
Summary: Catherine and Sara are called in to investigate a B&E and find more than they bargained for. [Post Grave Danger CS]
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: The characters of CSI are not mine. The other characters that you don't recognize from canon, they are mine.

Author's Notes: Have been trying to pen a somewhat longer saga surrounding the Cath/Sara thing for a while and finally completed something that I'm 99.9 percent happy with. So, here I go.

I kinda always had this idea about using Native American legend/folklore in a story and going crazy with it. Just couldn't figure out how until now. That being said, I used a lot of creative license here on a few things. The origins of Paiute tradition are definitely not mine and I don't claim them as my own beliefs. Paiute just happened to be a tribe that exists in the Nevada region and chances are, I got some stuff wrong. Long story short, I made up a lot of stuff to coincide with the stuff that is true, so please don't take it all as the truth and please don't take offense. I just wanted to write this story.

Lots of creative license on bugs as well. So any entomology people out there, please refrain from correcting me on any bug info in this story. We can't all be Grissom. So, I'm shutting up now. (Finally!) Read and tell me what you think.

Category: Angst/Drama/Supernatural/bits of Humor

Summary: Catherine and Sara are called in to investigate a B&E and find more than they bargained for. Post Grave Danger; C/S

**Eagle Soars**

Part One

by e-dog

Sara Sidle made certain the address that she had scrawled on the crinkled post-it note was correct. It would be the worst start to this wretched morning if she was driving around in the wrong neighborhood. The traffic had just been horrendous considering she had pulled out into the early goings of rush hour chaos.

After circling the neighborhood several times and getting lost for a few moments, she determined it was way too early to investigate yet another petty, senseless crime. To be frank, she was exhausted. Having just pulled another 19 hour shift, getting the call to duty from a certain cherry-blond CSI at six o'clock in the morning wasn't pleasant or welcome. Sara was about to pass out when the shrill ring of her phone yanked her from the depths of slumber. Another night with no sleep. She prayed this case would be quick and easy.

Sara pulled her car up behind Catherine Willows's SUV and cut the engine. She rummaged around for some mints or gum and was discouraged to find she had none. She almost always had a stash for situations like this, in the event that she literally had to roll out of bed, walk out the door and just drive. There was no time to brush hair, change clothes or even swish some mouth wash. She rolled her eyes, checked her breath and concluded the stale scent wouldn't knock her co-worker over.

She peeked over her sunglasses to look out her window and spied Catherine talking to a police officer. He was tall and blond, someone Sara had never seen before. He must've been the local officer reporting in, possibly a rookie judging by how young he looked. He was the only cop car on the scene.

She also noticed the stance of both parties. Catherine was relaxed, giving the young man a very luminous smile. Typical flirt behavior. The tall, blond officer was eating it all up too, arms crossed and his smile just as cocky. Sara laughed to herself, feeling sorry for him. He probably thought he was gonna get lucky tonight or something.

Eventually, Catherine spotted her and waved insistently for her to get a move on. Sara sighed. Another day, another anserine crime.

Kit in hand, she exited her vehicle and made her way up to Catherine and the tall, blond officer. He also seemed to be giving her an appreciative stare as she walked up. She nearly rolled her eyes. This guy was a wolf.

She heard Catherine on the tail end of giving instructions and dismissing Officer Greenwald (thank goodness) to complete whatever that task was. Once he had walked away, Sara yawned and gave a half-hearted, "Morning."

"Sorry, but Grissom pushed this off on me, right when I was walking out the door to go home, mind you. Not to mention, Nick is still on medical leave and Warrick is working his own case. You're all I've got," Catherine greeted her, her words coming out in rush. Then Catherine paused, pushing her sunglasses up so that they rested on top of her head. She gave Sara a once over and asked curiously, "Are those the clothes I saw you in yesterday?"

Sara inadvertently glanced down at her attire. Before she could answer, she could see the wry grin forming on Catherine's face. Sara groaned inwardly. Yes, these were the same clothes she had on yesterday, but she wasn't about to admit that to Miss "I-Look-Perfect-All-The-Time". Sara just forced a smile and asked, "So, what do we know so far?"

"Breaking and entering," Catherine began, taking the hint. Sara was in no mood for teasing. They both walked inside as Catherine poured out the details, "A neighbor called it in. The owner's name is Paul Martinez. Sometime around 4 this morning, a man in a ski-mask accessed the house from the back. Mr. Martinez was in his bedroom, the tv watching him. He was asleep. Completely unaware."

"The neighbor was up at 4 in the morning?" Sara asked inquisitively as she stepped over glass shards on the kitchen floor.

"He works nights. Had just arrived home about 20 minutes prior to the breaking in and spotted the intruder out his kitchen window," Catherine elaborated, then stopped at the patio door. She paused in the narration while they both took a long, hard look at the origin of the crime scene.

It was your standard door with a glass window and gold door handles. The lower left corner of the window was broken explaining the shards on the floor. Sara could already envision the intruder busting open the window, reaching his grubby hands in and unlocking the door from the inside. While she had been picturing this, Catherine finished up by saying, "Mr. Martinez woke up at the sound of glass being broken. He raced down the stairs with a tennis racket and spooked our perp. By the time authorities got here, the perp was gone. Martinez said there was no struggle. He assumed it was some punk kid looking to make a quick buck."

"Sounds very neat and tidy," Sara commented, suppressing another yawn with her hand. She didn't really understand why they were here. Nothing was stolen. No one was hurt. The police seemed to have done their job and Mr. Martinez didn't seem to be complaining. Could she go home now?

"It's not as neat and tidy as you may think," Catherine said in a dismaying tone. She directed Sara's attention to the kitchen table.

Sara kneeled down to get a closer look and stated the obvious, "Blood. Looks fresh."

"I haven't swabbed it yet."

"I'll get it."

Sara could hear Catherine walking away as she combed through her kit for the appropriate collection tool. She yawned again, took the sample, then stood up to look around. Mr. Martinez claimed there was no struggle, but the blood was fresh and there was enough of it to assume it was more than a paper cut. There was also a small chunk of the table chipped off indicating something or someone hit the edge solidly. It was possible the two men got into a scuffle.

Judging by the fact that the blood only resided on the corner of the table and nowhere else, Sara concluded that maybe it was used as a weapon. Mr. Martinez tackled his intruder and slammed said intruder's head into the table to subdue him, leaving the blood behind. Question was, did the intruder walk out under his own power or did Mr. Martinez help him? Either way, Martinez was lying. They would surely have to talk to him again.

Sara aimed her flashlight along the floor, searching for anymore signs of conflict. No blood splatter. No drag marks in the carpet. She kneeled down looking for fibers, hair, anything. There was nothing. These observations were beginning to effectively rule out that Mr. Martinez did anything criminal. He was just trying to protect his home. Catherine walked back in, camera in hand and watched Sara inspect the floor.

"Anything?"

"No sign of struggle down here," Sara confirmed with a slightly deflated look. She wasn't ready to give up yet as she added, "We'll know more about the blood once we find out who it belongs to."

"Yeah," Catherine agreed. She scanned the room one last time before suggesting, "I don't think we'll learn much else in here. Wanna check the garage?"

"Uh, sure, but what's the point? The perp was only in here," Sara shrugged as she followed the other woman.

"I found black shoe prints in the backyard on the patio, just outside the door. Motor oil," Catherine explained. "It wouldn't hurt to get a sample from the garage to have for comparison."

"If they match, it would prove whoever was in the garage also broke into the house," Sara smiled slightly, catching on to Catherine's way of thinking. Once in the garage, Catherine instantly found the only bottle of motor oil in plain sight. There were also more footprints. She snapped photos of those. She then retrieved an empty container from her kit to pour some of the motor oil into.

Sara took it upon herself to search for anything else that may seem out of place, but she immediately found that would be impossible. The garage was an orderly and uncluttered space with very little room for tools let alone a car. With an oil stain in the center of the floor, however, it was plain to see that Mr. Martinez fit his car in here somehow. Sara sighed and asked, "Any idea what the motive could be for robbing this guy? He doesn't exactly live the high life."

"Who knows. At this point, I could care less why people do stupid things," Catherine sighed as well, finished with collecting the sample of motor oil. Sara continued to examine the various tools hanging on the wall when she heard Catherine mumble, "Now that's interesting."

Sara turned around, shining her flashlight over to where Catherine was standing. In the back right corner of the garage were several stacked boxes. She made her way over and asked, "What's interesting?"

"Hmm?" Catherine murmured, inspecting the labels on the boxes.

"You said 'that's interesting'," Sara clarified. "What?"

"Oh, sorry," Catherine shook her head. It was obvious the long hours were getting to her as well. She pointed at the labels, "Addresses to all parts of the country from a P.O. Box located right here in Vegas." She paused taking one more second to read, then added, "From some company called 'The Next Big Idea'."

"How original," Sara remarked sarcastically.

Catherine half smiled, before eyeing the boxes inquisitively, "I wonder what's inside."

Sara smirked, completely aware that Catherine only wondered aloud to peek her curiosity. How could she say no to snooping through other people's things? Especially if it could explain the motive to kill another human being? "Let's open one of them."

Catherine eagerly grabbed a random box, but noticed it wasn't taped shut yet. She smiled, "Looks like we don't have to. . .this one is already open." She unfolded the flaps, her expression deflating some. "It looks like. . .a bunch of syringes." She rummaged through the packing peanuts some more, then shook her head in bewilderment, "That's all. Just syringes."

Sara frowned, "Weird."

"Yeah, tell me about it." The two women pondered their discovery for a moment. There were obvious signs of forced entry allowing for the possibility of a robbery but the only thing of possible value in the entire house was a box of syringes?

"Ms. Willows?"

Sara and Catherine turned around startled, only to find a skinny man in a t-shirt and shorts standing in the garage doorway. Sara had her hand on her gun, but paused when she saw Catherine visibly relax. It was apparent she knew this man. With an exasperated sigh, Catherine said, "Mr. Martinez. We asked you kindly to stay out of the house until we were finished."

He was silent for a moment. He looked disturbed. His tousled hair, disheveled clothing and wire thin glasses made him appear unkempt and very naive. It was hard to believe this man had chased anyone out of his home with a tennis racket or managed to appear threatening at all.

"I know, but I think I found something. Out back," Martinez insisted in a shaky voice. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, keeping his gaze fixed on the floor.

"What did you find?" Sara asked, not ready to budge. Too many times in the past had victims tried to run the cases themselves, only to lead CSI on a wild goose chase. She wasn't in the mood for those kind of head games today.

"A body," he gulped, then started to walk away promptly. His movements jerky and spastic. The two women exchanged intrigued glances before immediately following him. He was in the backyard, standing next to an old Volkswagen. The trunk had been popped and he was staring inside with wide eyes. He removed his glasses and wiped sweat from his brow. He mumbled, "I've never seen a dead body before."

"Would you mind stepping back, Mr. Martinez?" Sara asked as politely as possible. The poor guy was really shaken now. Just hours ago, he had chased a burglar out of his home. Now he's come across this? She shined her flashlight inside to look closer and was surprised by what she saw. It was a young man, maybe in his early twenties. Dark clothes and a wound on his forehead. He looked so fresh. Couldn't have been dead for more than a few hours.

"Mr. Martinez, is this your car?" Catherine asked, trying to help calm him.

"Yes, it is my car," Martinez nodded quickly. The hitch in his voice was gone.

"Is this the man who broke into your house?" Sara asked, turning around and holding up a ski mask. Both woman could see the guilt flash across his face. Sara feeling more bold then usual asked, "Did you kill him?"

Martinez didn't answer, as he returned his gaze to the ground. Catherine informed him disappointedly, "You do realize we have to take you in for questioning now. You lied about a struggle and you lied about the body."

"No. I'm not a killer," Martinez said, giving them both a watery smile. Sara could feel a chill run down her spine. Something didn't feel right. Martinez rubbed his hands together and mumbled, "I'm a good guy, Ms. Willows."

"Even good guys can go to jail," Sara stated, ready to call for that tall, blond officer. She was hoping beyond hope that Brass was on his way too. This Martinez guy was starting to scare her.

"All we need to do is ask a few questions. For all we know, it was self-defense. If you cooperate, it will bode highly for you in the end," Catherine advised. She then froze, not understanding her apprehension. Mr. Martinez was beginning to look. . .aggressive. His eyes darkened ever so slightly. . .

Martinez suddenly smacked Catherine across the face sending her to the ground. The force in which he did so was incredible! Her body went limp instantly. Sara blinked in surprise at what just happened, completely stunned by his actions. Was this the same spastic man that just claimed he had never seen a dead body before?

Her rational mind finally kicked into gear as she went to pull her gun. Martinez was too poised and quick as he knocked the weapon from her hands. He forcefully pushed her into the car with amazing strength. Sara's back slammed up against the hot metal and she seethed at the pain running up her spine. After regaining some of her senses, she yelled as loudly as possible, "I need help! We have a hostile suspect!"

"No one can hear you," he said dryly, staring down at her with diffident eyes.

"Officer!" Sara screamed again. Damn it, what was his name? "Officer!"

"The reporting officer is enjoying a sedative induced nap," Martinez told Sara sweetly. His demeanor frighteningly calm. "I'm sure his friends won't be here for a few more minutes, which is why it's time to take a ride."

Sara's eyes widened at that comment and she scrambled to get away. Martinez grabbed her by the shoulders then threw her to the ground next to an unconscious Catherine. She grunted from the fall. The palms of her hands taking the brunt of her tumble, her efforts to sustain less injury hampered when the jagged rock surface below the grass assaulted her skin. When she looked up again, Martinez had her weapon drawn on her. He smiled widely, "You should never judge a book by it's cover, Miss. . .I'm sorry. What was your name?"

Sara didn't answer, but she watched his beady eyes stare at her chest to read her tag. He made eye contact with her again and finished, "Ms. Sidle. You thought I was some loser, didn't you? Impossible for a man of my size to hold his own?"

Sara continued to remain quiet. What could she say? She had been fooled. He finally ordered sedately, "Hurry up. I want you to remove your ever so special crime scene investigator vests, then load her into the back seat. You sit in the front."

"No," Sara tried to say confidently, even though her own gun was staring her in the face.

"Please. Ms. Willows is a wonderful woman. Her blood will be on your hands if you don't comply," Martinez insisted ever so gently. His composure sickened Sara, but it was becoming clear she had no choice.

If she acquiesced to his demands, they would both have a chance to survive. Maybe if she stalled, more help would arrive and end this nightmare before it got any worse.

She removed the vests slowly, not wanting any jerky movements to set off that gun. Sara found it easy enough to lift the smaller frame of Catherine off the grass, hooking her arms under the older woman's. Purposely dragging Catherine's feet in the dirt, she wanted to leave some kind of mark behind for Grissom to see. After a quick glance over her shoulder at Martinez, Sara focused on the limp form she was dragging. Poor Catherine was still knocked out cold, a contusion beginning to form on her cheek from where she had been hit.

Now all Sara could feel was extreme anger with herself. If she had just held on to her gun, she could've subdued Martinez. This wouldn't be happening.

He had opened the back door already and impatiently demanded, "Faster. I don't have all day."

Sara griped, but did as she was told. No sense in pissing off a crazy man with her gun. She managed to get Catherine in, making sure she was as comfortable as one could be lying in the backseat of a car. Sara lingered as her eyes took in the hobbled form that was Catherine, feeling more guilt with each passing second. If only she had been faster than him. Smarter than him.

When Sara backed away, Martinez's arm immediately wrapped around her neck and held her close to him. He smelled of peppermint and the strength of his grip made escape unlikely. He whispered sincerely, "I'm really a good guy. I swear I am."

Before she could respond, a sharp pinch was felt in her arm. A needle injecting some sort of sedative, she supposed. She struggled to free herself from this seemingly harmless man, but it was no use. He had removed the needle from her arm. The world was slowly fading away. She no longer wondered how frightened Nick must have been when he was abducted. To have no control. To fear for ones life and wonder what the next few hours would bring. She didn't have to.

She was experiencing it.

To be continued. . .


	2. Chapter 2

**Eagle Soars**

Part Two

by e-dog

Darkness had engulfed him.

Then Officer Greenwald's foggy mind became clear again as he opened his eyes only to squint at the bright sunlight. The luminescence was harsh, but that was the least of his problems. He groaned, images finally flashing about inside his head. The last thing he could recall was Martinez asking him to look at his car. He claimed to have found something relevant to the attempted robbery. After that, however, the memories were a little fuzzy.

It didn't take a genius to figure out what had happened, though. He was a young, rookie cop pretending he could handle the scene on his own. He flirted with the blond one and she flirted back. Harmless chatter. He even checked out the brunette. It had been his lucky day to watch over two beautiful women. Man, was he an idiot.

He was tricked by a crook, plain and simple, and now he was paying the price for his negligence.

He should've called for back-up sooner.

The young cop's head was throbbing, but he had to move. He had to do his job. He stumbled to his feet and ran clumsily back into the house. He went through every room, a part of his subconscious still allowing him to tread carefully over the crime scene materials. Finally, to the back of the house, his firearm was extended expecting the worst.

There was no one there.

The wiry thin man and the two women criminalists were gone. As well as that beat up Volkswagen. He could see the dredged tire tracks in the grass indicating it had recently driven away. Damn it!

He hastily returned to the front of the house, running past the blond's SUV and the brunette's little red car. He dived his body halfway through his open car window and grabbed his radio. He fumbled with some buttons than spoke loudly and clearly into the speaker,"This is Officer Greenwald! 10-108: Officer needs assistance! I repeat: 10-108! There have been two abductions. CSIs: Willows and, uh. . .Sidle!"

He paused for confirmation of the requests. Finally, he added, "Also, put out an APB on one Paul Martinez. Suspect may be armed and dangerous, driving a grey Volkswagen!"

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First Nick Stokes.

Now Sara Sidle and Catherine Willows. That would be the total of three CSIs abducted in the span of only a few weeks. Three CSIs from the same unit. The same team. The same family.

Although there were clear differences between both cases, knowing that one of their own had been stolen from them again hurt just the same. Another hole needing to be refilled.

Gil Grissom stood by himself in the backyard, his eyes sweeping the crime scene. He pursed his lips together in thought, already separating the obvious dissimilarities. With Nick, his abduction was throughly planned out. Evidence was precisely placed, like his vest. Every twist and turn planned by a disgruntled relative who nearly got what he wanted had it not been for one minor detail that his own flesh and blood let slip in an interview. This abduction was definitely different from Nick's.

He first noticed the drag marks. They almost seemed purposeful. He knelt down, the marks thin and deep. Heels, maybe. One of them had been dragged towards the now non-existent car. If he had to guess by heel size, it was Catherine. Sara usually wore something with a thick heel or a flat sole. Upon closer inspection of the ground, he couldn't really tell what Sara's movements might have been. The yard itself was unkempt and there was very little leeway in distinguishing what was natural growth and what was purposeful kicking up of soil. Secondly, two vests lay next to each other, seemingly thrown down in a haste. White letters that spelled out 'Sidle' looked up at him. He frowned. Nothing here was placed with care or precision.

"This was spur-of-the-moment," Grissom concluded as Warrick Brown took his place beside him. He glanced up at the other man and reiterated, "Unplanned. Hasty."

"Yeah, the few pieces of evidence Sara and Catherine managed to collect is just sitting around, untouched," Warrick agreed. His voice was wobbly. Uncertain. Fearful. Grissom squinted his eyes somewhat, trying to read the troubled CSI, but Warrick pulled himself together. He pointed back toward the house and elaborated, "Catherine's camera was inside. About 40 photos taken of the interior. In the garage is a sample of motor oil. Catherine collected that as well. I recognized her hand writing. There was also a blood sample in Sara's kit. I found a flashlight, still on. I'm guessing one of them dropped it in a struggle or just forgot to turn it off while looking for more evidence."

"Mmhmm," Grissom hummed, rubbing his lower lip with a nervous index finger. He had to admit, this had shaken him. It was true, he and Nick had a very close relationship. Like master and apprentice. With these two women, it was different. Mainly because they _were_ women. Women he had strong feelings for in different contexts. A man feels he should protect the women in his life at all costs, no matter what. He had failed them.

It was no secret around the lab that Sara and Catherine liked to take care of themselves, whether it was in their capability to do so or not. They would be offended if any of the guys pulled them from a case to "protect" them. Grissom had no problem with that, he supposed. He highly respected their strength. It was what made them great CSIs.

It was just amazing how easy it was to honor that strength. To allow Catherine to run crime scenes like this, virtually on her own. To call in Sara, another woman with limited shooting skills, to the same scene. To only have a rookie cop watching over them. So many things could've been done differently.

"I could've helped Catherine," Warrick spoke, startling Grissom. The quiet entomologist had forgotten the other man was even there, getting lost in his musings. He looked at Warrick who finished sadly, "My case was near completion. I could've helped. . .prevented this."

Grissom understood Warrick's guilt. A incident of negligence on his part had cost the life of a fellow CSI. Another scene saw Catherine struggling through a one sided fight.

"Warrick," Grissom said, his voice remaining calm and supportive. He motioned towards the house. "Everything in that house is exactly as Sara and Catherine left it. Their evidence is what we have. We'll use that to find them."

Warrick nodded, his face remaining unbearably anguished as he promised to go over the house with a fine toothed comb. As Warrick entered the garage, Greg Sanders rushed up to his boss hastily. He immediately went into excuses, "Sorry, Gris. I slept through my alarm...and the annoying shrill of my phone. . .and the insistent knocking on my front door..."

"Greg. . .there are tire tracks over there. Make a mold," Grissom interrupted, pointing towards the back of the yard. The young man stopped. He looked nauseous. It became clear that Greg didn't oversleep. He just didn't know how to walk into _this_ again. He didn't know how to investigate the disappearance of one of their own again. Grissom felt compelled to lock eyes with Greg. To show he understood.

"Right. Tire tracks," Greg finally complied, then paused. "How long have they been gone?"

He answered Greg with a shrug and gave a barely audible, "I don't know." He then adverted his eyes toward the street. Brass was talking to the uniform that was on duty here, trying to find that out.

--------------------------------------

Captain Jim Brass could see Grissom watching them intently. He wanted answers. They all did. He looked at Officer Greenwald and repeated,"Just think _hard_. What time was it when CSI Sidle arrived at the scene?"

Greenwald leaned against his car, his arms folded across his chest. His expression guilt ridden. He sighed, "Okay, um, I was talking to Willows. We were discussing Martinez. He needed to stay out of the house and it was my job to watch him. Then Sidle's car pulled up. I think it was around. . .6:45."

Brass checked his watch. "It's 10:30 now. They've been gone for about three to four hours. Is there anything else you can tell me?"

"That's all I remember. I'm sorry," Greenwald sighed, shaking his head again.

Brass walked up to Grissom, who inquiringly pressed for information,"Well?"

Brass repeated the story. "Well, we can confirm that they've been gone for a few hours. As for the perp, his name is Paul Martinez. Martinez asked Officer Greenwald to look at his car. Greenwald followed and then his memory is a little fuzzy from there. The kid is falling to pieces for letting that guy take our girls."

"Maybe I can help with the memory loss," Greg supplied, walking up with a couple of expended syringes in his gloved hands. Both men turned to give him their undivided attention as the young CSI held up the items. "I found them near the tire tracks. Warrick also said there's a garage full of them."

"Take those back to the lab to confirm their chemical content," Grissom advised. Greg immediately took off to complete that task.

Grissom then turned to Brass once more and asked for clarification, "Exactly how long have they been gone?"

"Three to four hours, give or take a few minutes," Brass shrugged. "It's not exact, but we can at least start a timeline. You see, we're also trying to track the car Greenwald described. A Volkswagen, possibly a grey 1990 Corrado. A traffic light camera captured some footage of what may be our car heading north near the Interstate 95 exit. That was about an hour ago."

Grissom turned his body north, looking straight ahead with offish eyes. One perp and two victims, with a potential third victim somewhere. Fours hours missing. Interstate 95 North. He didn't want to sound bleak, but he knew what the possible outcomes could be and they weren't very promising.

At this point, the two women could be anywhere.

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At some point, Sara came to, but she was extremely groggy. There was this voice in her head, but she couldn't quite place it just yet. She was lying face down in some dirt. No, it was sand. The gritty texture rubbed against her cheek as she tried to move her head. Her hands were bound behind her back and she attempted to free herself. Nothing doing. She heard a crunching sound. Someone walking. Her head felt like a ton of bricks as she tried to look up and see who was coming. A dark figure was cloaked by the sun. He kneeled down next to her and smiled, "How was your nap?"

"What - - happened?" Sara croaked.

"I had to bring you here. Distract your friends. While they look for you, I can get away."

Sara finally realized it was Martinez talking to her. She let her head drop back down to the sandy surface with a plop. She was just too stuporous to function. Instead, she talked into the ground, her words almost muted as she spoke, "Why did you kill him?"

"He wasn't a crook. He was my business partner," Martinez explained. Sara felt his hands on hers. She wanted to jump in surprise, but stopped. He wasn't trying to hurt her. He was untying the ropes that had previously served as restraints. Once he threw those to the side, he finished, "He tried to screw me over. I'm a nice guy, you know. I'm not a killer."

"You murdered that man in the trunk. You kidnapped two criminalists . .," Sara reminded him, her words sounding less sloppy as the drug wore off. She moved her arms, but they still fell limp at her sides. She wasn't sure if she would be able to fight Martinez in this state, if push came to shove. Judging by his calm voice, he wasn't worried about being attacked.

"No, he fell. Hit his head on the damn table. If it weren't for that nosy insomniac neighbor, no one would've know about him," Martinez reasoned, but his frustration was evident. "I knew I would get pinned for his death. I know you CSIs. Nothing is ever an accident. There's always someone to blame." He rose from the sand and then added cheekily, "Not to mention, my partner and I were on the run for fraud. You see, we scammed people. Ripped them off. I'm not going to jail for murder and I'm sure as hell not going to jail for fraud."

Sara could hear him walking away. She panicked and called out, "Where are you going?"

"I think I'll take a vacation. Hawaii or something," he shouted back, clearly far away from her now. "But don't worry. I hear your team is the best. They'll find you before the scorpions will, I'm sure!"

"Wait!" Sara grumbled, her dry throat cracking on her. She coughed into the sand, involuntarily breathing in loose particles. She tried to listen. Maybe she heard a car engine, but she wasn't sure. Soon, the desert air was silent. At the mention of scorpions, she was sure there were plenty of other creepy crawlies everywhere. That fact alone inspired her to try and move. With determination, she rolled onto her back, then remained there after feeling winded from that simple task. Her mind was still hazy, as she remembered something else that was very important. Where _was_ Catherine? Sara shut her eyes in defeat and whispered fearfully, "Catherine. . ."

Shutting her eyes was her undoing as she slipped into another lapse of sleep.

When she had forced her eyes open again, Catherine's name was still on her tongue. It was the first thought in her mind. The next thought was wondering how long she had been out. What time was it? Where was she? Then, after making a complete circle of thoughts she was back to Catherine. Where was Catherine? She managed to lift a lazy arm to rub her eyes. She feared the worst. Her head rolled onto its left side, eyes closed again. She knew she couldn't just lie there, so she opened her eyes again and took in a quick breath of relief. Catherine had been lying right next to her the entire time. She felt silly for not looking around before.

She spoke a barely audible, "Catherine..." Her voice was still hoarse, but fortunately she was loud enough to be heard.

"Hmm. . .what?" came the lackadaisical voice of her co-worker. Sara smiled, never once thinking she would ever be so happy to hear that familiar exasperated tone.

Sara attempted the whole speaking thing again, her voice stronger then before, but only managing a measly, "Hey."

"Hey," was the groggy reply. Catherine was just waking up, slowly rolling her head left then right in an attempt to clear her mind. She groaned in obvious discomfort, "What happened?"

"You don't want to know, trust me," Sara told her somberly, grunting as she forced herself into a sitting position. The world was still a little rocky, but whatever sedative that had been administered was finally wearing off. She scooted over to Catherine and asked, "Are you alright?"

"I feel like I got hit by a bus," Catherine complained. She had yet to realize the magnitude of their situation, momentarily forgetting their encounter with Paul Martinez. Sara also took this time to inspect the bruise on Catherine's cheek. It was swelling a bit, but considering how hard she had been hit, it wasn't looking too bad. Then Sara watched as Catherine struggled with her restrained hands. She mumbled, "What the hell?"

She battled some more only further proving her hands were bound. Catherine opened her eyes wide this time in fear and soaked in the image of blue skies and clouds. She felt the sand in her hair and the oppressing heat of the sun. She looked up at Sara and asked worriedly, "Where are we?"

"Uh, in the middle of the desert, it seems," Sara half-smiled, then shrugged.

"Good Lord," Catherine groaned and shut her eyes. "He dumped us here?"

"Eureka! Now you're beginning to remember!"

"This is a bad time to joke, Sara."

"We're still alive, right? Judging by what he told me, it shouldn't be too hard to find the road," Sara said optimistically. She stretched out her arms, then attempted to stand up. "Whoa. . .not yet."

Catherine watched Sara clumsily hit the dirt. No sooner did she hit the ground and catch her breath, Sara tried again. This time she was successful, taking a few more seconds to find her equilibrium. Feeling triumphant, Sara showed her free hands to Catherine and smiled, "He even untied my hands. I'll untie yours, then we can find the road. Okay?"

Catherine couldn't argue with the logic there as Sara helped her to sit up. In no time, her hands had been freed and they both surveyed their surroundings. The skies were brilliantly bright helping their view to be very clear. . . very clear to see sand in every direction. The horizon seemed miles away. Catherine put her hands on her hips and said dejectedly, "This doesn't look promising."

"No, it's okay. He didn't walk away all that long ago. . .I think," Sara said, the science geek in her rearing it's ugly head. She was in work mode. "I remembered hearing him walk away in this direction. . ."

Catherine couldn't help but smile at Sara's diligence. She waited while the younger woman inspected the ground then grinned widely, "Footprints. He left us a trail to follow."

Catherine walked up, studied the prints and said impressed, "Nice job. You know, you're staying pretty calm about all of this."

"I'll freak out later," Sara reassured, before walking off in the direction of Martinez's prints. "After we get to the lab, go over all the evidence in Martinez's house, track him down and have him arrested for murder."

Sara's resilience was quite comical at the moment, Catherine had to admit. "Murder? What about abducting us?"

Sara flashed a rare smile, full of teeth, "We'll get him on that too."

Catherine grinned back, still after all these years admiring Sara for her dedication to the job. Not that Catherine had anything to be ashamed of. Being strong was a prerequisite for her previous and current lifestyle. Only, just a few moments ago, when she found herself lying in the hot sand and hands bound, she was frightened. She didn't stop to assess the situation. Sara had to do that for her. Judging by the condition in which they were left, Paul Martinez obviously didn't want to kill them. Nevertheless, he did use them as his means of escape. Once they got back to the lab, Catherine would be sure to aid Sara in their attempts to catch him. If not for justice, then out of revenge.

"So where the hell do you think we are?" Catherine asked, just to break the silence.

Sara shrugged, her focus on the trail they were following. A shriek loud enough to break glass split the sky. Both Sara and Catherine stopped and simultaneously looked up toward the sound. It was an eagle flying majestically, albeit a little too low to ground for their liking. They both watched curiously as the eagle soared lazily on the light breeze. Watching with a strange sense of awe, Sara felt a wave of vertigo hit her and she nearly fell over. She caught herself, blinking several times to refocus. What the hell was that?

"Sara?" Catherine asked, her voice more amused than concerned. "They forget to teach you basic human functions, like standing, back at Harvard?"

Sara was still a little too dizzy and freaked out by her sudden loss of control to actually muster a glare at Catherine, so she continued on. She contemplated the dizzy feeling. It was unlike anything she had ever felt before. It wasn't like a migraine or nausea. She almost felt as if she were floating, then upon realizing it, lost the ability altogether. She frowned, concluding that the desert sun was just messing with her head.

They had been walking for maybe five minutes when the footprints stopped. The trail had run cold. Sara finally looked a little panicky when she realized her foolproof plan was failing. What happened? She ran a hand through her hair and turned in a circle. She remarked exasperated, "It's not windy. The sand couldn't have covered them up."

"Wait a minute," Catherine shook her head, then walked a few feet ahead. "Tire tracks."

"He drove?" Sara stated bleakly standing next to Catherine. It was a stupid statement to make considering they had been loaded into a car when they were abducted. Seeing tire tracks couldn't have been completely unexpected.

There was a loop in the sand indicating he had turned around. Some drag marks in the sand too, but most of those had disappeared. It was possible Martinez had carried them one by one to the spot he had dropped them. They both stared ahead, the tire tracks leading far off into the distance. There was still no sign of tarmac or any human life for that matter.

"What takes ten minutes to drive, could take us hours to walk," Catherine said discouraged. "And I still don't see the road."

"Way to stay positive, Cath," Sara griped, then began walking again. "Judging by where the sun is in the sky, night will be here soon. It's only going to get colder, so we should get moving."

Catherine wrapped her arms around herself and followed. Then she felt this insane itchy feeling all up her forearm. "Whoa...Sara, hold up."

Sara turned around to see Catherine swatting at her arm. She reached the other woman somewhat amused and asked, "What's up?"

"I think there's something on me," Catherine replied, then confirmed that statement with a slight screech. She swiped the black spider off her arm quickly. In the spot it had previously occupied, there was a small bump. She rolled her eyes and whined slightly, "Damn thing bit me."

Sara had been surprised to see two spiders hit the ground and run away. However, she had also noticed the hourglass shaped spot on the bugs. It was an orange spot. All her experience with Grissom suddenly became very useful and very forbidding. She glanced up and gave Catherine a grave expression which caught the blond's attention immediately. "Sara?"

"Uh," was all Sara could muster. Her mouth hung open dumbly.

Catherine glanced down at the bug bite, than back at the brunette. She immediately deduced the spider bite was what had Sara gaping at her like an idiot. She repeated strongly, "Sara? What's wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"That was a black widow, Cath," Sara said simply, without any further explanation. Another thought hit Sara as she said this. She began to inspect herself for any bugs. She could feel questioning eyes on her as she shook out her clothing.

"Hey, I'm not Grissom. Elaborate," Catherine pleaded, inspecting her arm where the spider bit her.

"Usually, the black widows that reside in Vegas require medical attention," Sara began to explain slowly, her voice slightly on edge. Her co-worker still didn't seem to get it, so she pressed on, "By the way you were swatting at your arm, I would say you agitated it and it bit you. Black widows emit a neurotoxin when they bite. Now there is an antitoxin, but we need to get you to a hospital as soon as possible."

"Great," Catherine managed to utter, then stared at her arm again. "How long?"

"Well, if the spider only bit you once, you should be fine," Sara said hopefully. "One bite isn't deadly, but there can be serious side effects. If they aren't treated, then you could, uh . . ."

"I could die?" Catherine filled in for her.

"Yeah, that," Sara said distractedly. "Let's look at your arm."

Catherine quicky complied by rolling up her sleeve and held up her arm. After a few minutes, they were both silent. Dread hung in the air as the reality of the situation was suddenly more disastrous. Sara pulled away and let go of Catherine's arm. She had counted at least three of those little bites on her forearm. She felt the need to say something, but what else could she say? Hey, you might experience lung or heart failure if not treated right away?

Or maybe she could declare how extremely unlucky Catherine was today. From what she knew about this particular spider, the black widow usually wasn't capable of getting through adult human skin. To be bitten three times by any of these spiders was unheard of.

Despite Sara's misgivings, Catherine couldn't be left in the dark. She had to know the dangers.

However, Sara was moved to silence. Catherine's expression was everything but bleak. It was purposeful. Determined. Driven. She was going to make it to a hospital. She was going to be alright. Without saying a word, Catherine began following the tire tracks across the sand. Sara stood there a moment in uncertainty, then followed. One bite would start showing signs of discomfort or maybe abdominal pains. Three bites would be worse.

Much worse.

To be continued. . .


	3. Chapter 3

**Eagle Soars**

Part Three

by e-dog

"Blood work on Greenwald is back. He had about 75 mg of Ketamine Hydrochloride in his system. That's the most common dosage used if administered to humans."

Grissom nodded, listening to Greg as they walked through the lab. Ketamine was mostly used as a sedative for animals, but as far as humans were concerned, in small doses it was the equivalent to opium at club scenes. Or as its worst use, a date rape drug in larger doses. Greg handed the results to Grissom, before they parted ways near the trace lab. Holding the results in his hand, Grissom began to wonder if Sara and/or Catherine had been drugged with Ketamine and hoped that the dosage wasn't deadly.

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The lab was buzzing with worried technicians and frazzled investigators. It was happening again. How could this be happening again? It seemed that crime scene investigators were now prime targets for abduction; a means of escape or revenge in the minds of criminals. Sara and Catherine were taken under distressed circumstances. The perp got scared. He made a hasty plan. A plan that Warrick Brown was slowly unraveling.

He moved the mouse slowly, watching the cursor on the computer screen highlight certain information he considered important. Paul Martinez had a record, which didn't surprise him. His last known location was in Wisconsin. He was charged with embezzlement along with his partner, Kevin Romero. Both men had left town before the authorities could bring them in. Now it seemed they were raising hell in Vegas, running a scam company selling Do-It-Yourself kits. After further research, Warrick finally realized this company had no address, no warehouse, no website. Nothing. Just a bank account that was conveniently emptied of half its contents just hours ago.

Warrick printed out his results, walked down the corridor to Grissom's office and stuck his head in. His boss gave him a nod to come in and he began to report his findings, "Martinez and Romero ran a dummy company claiming to sell kits that gave eager entrepreneurs everything they needed to start a business. It was a scam. I found several boxes of syringes, all with addresses to various parts of the country. I think the syringes were part of the joke."

"Go on," Grissom said, momentarily shutting his eyes as he listened.

"The addresses match up to a list of buyers," Warrick concluded. "These people spent hundreds of dollars on syringes."

"Can't say I feel sorry for them," Grissom shrugged. "If a deal sounds too good to be true, it usually is."

"You can say that again," Warrick agreed with a slight chuckle before continuing. "Now, Martinez accessed an ATM about two hours ago withdrawing about 2,000 dollars of their profits. The limit on the machine was 250 dollars, so it took him about ten tries to get that much. The account has about 3,000 left in it and it's now frozen. No one can access it."

"Where was this ATM accessed?"

"Somewhere near Scotty's Junction," Warrick answered, his voice sounding hopeful. "I already requested for a copy of the security tape at the ATM to confirm it's our guy. This also helps in giving us a general direction for the search."

"I'll call Brass. Tell him to focus his search on I-95," Grissom agreed, picking up his phone. He looked at his clock while he listened to the ring. Catherine and Sara had been gone for nearly nine hours. If they were still driving, they could very well be out of the state.

"Martinez must've thought Sara and Cath would bust him on the phoney kits and he panicked," Warrick commented, leaning against the doorway.

"Gris," Greg was next to poke his head inside. Distractedly, Grissom listened to Greg and listened to Brass on the line. Greg waved DNA results in the air and confirmed, "The blood in the house belonged to some guy named Kevin Romero. His DNA was already on file from a previous case in another state."

"Martinez's partner," Warrick confirmed. Grissom dropped the phone in its cradle and stood up to see the blood results himself. He then ordered the two men get some rest. Right now, it was a waiting game and he wanted everyone to be as rested as possible when it was time to move again. They had to wait on Martinez to slip up. Hopefully, Brass would be able to track him down before anything serious happened.

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The tire tracks seemed to be endless as the two women trekked across the hot sand.

The sun was unforgiving, hanging in the sky above them. Sara knew these hot, torrid conditions were overwhelming Catherine because the heat was certainly overwhelming her. So far, the blond had been keeping the pace always staying a few steps ahead of Sara. It was as if she were trying to prove something. That the spider bites weren't effecting her, but Sara knew better. She could see the signs. The body language. The tired eyes. The drooping head.

Sara was sure the rest of the team was working as diligently as possible to find them, but even she knew Martinez left little behind that would help.

"That looks like a good spot," Sara pointed to some brush up ahead. Once they reached it, Sara silently began to wish she could transform into a guy at will, if only for a few minutes. Peeing out in the middle of nowhere wasn't exactly easy for a woman, but finding some thick enough brush for privacy was all they could hope for.

Catherine released a sigh, using her good arm to gesture toward the designated "bathroom". Sara squinted, then realized what she was being asked. Her cheeks flushed some, before she spoke, "You can go first. I'll just. . .uh, I'll walk over this way. Call me when you're done."

Sara began to wander off, her thoughts consumed with their current situation. She started this day dreading another round with the infamous Catherine Willows. Now that they were here, she was glad that they were together. Better together than alone.

She looked up realizing she had been walking for quite a while. Then her heart stopped when she heard Catherine shout out in pain. Sara immediately turned back, running at full speed to a fallen friend, writhing in obvious discomfort on the sandy surface. Sara stumbled some, practically falling next to Catherine and panting, "Cath? Hey, you okay?"

"I'm fine," Catherine gritted out between her teeth, her face flushing some. Any other day, Sara would've found a bashful Catherine amusing, but this wasn't any other day. Catherine struggled to sit up again, her face contorting at the painful sensation she was experiencing. Sara helped her sit up the rest of the way, only to feel Catherine aggressively pull herself away.

Sara sighed deeply, then nearly begged, "Catherine. Let me help you."

The blond looked at her then, her face falling into one of despair and hopelessness. She finally admitted, "It's my arm."

Sara gave her a questioning look, before Catherine held up her good hand. Well, it wasn't as good as Sara had thought. It was shaking, badly. Catherine rolled her eyes, before confessing, "This arm started to go numb a while ago...I just thought. I don't know what I thought . . ."

Sara couldn't help but gripe,"You should've told me."

"And what could you have done, Sara?" Catherine snapped. "My body is slowly falling apart on me and I just. . .Look. I tripped, put my good arm out to catch myself and well, I didn't catch myself. My arm buckled under my weight."

"I'm sorry," Sara said somberly, then gestured toward the wounded appendage. "May I?"

Catherine finally smiled, "You're a doctor now?"

"Well, I've got experience working in a coroner's office," Sara shrugged, lightly putting pressure on Catherine's forearm. "I think I would know if something is broken. . ."

Catherine hissed when Sara put pressure on her wrist. Sara smiled slightly, "Like you hissing right then? I'd say this is a sprain at most."

"Thank you for your expert opinion," Catherine mumbled, but her tone was light and joking.

Sara slowly rose to her feet, then helped Catherine to stand as well. She was still a little shaky, but was quickly getting herself back under control. No doubt she would be ready to keep walking again really soon. Sara rubbed Catherine's shoulder comfortingly, before turning away and giving her privacy once more.

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Catherine was letting her infected arm dangle by her side now. It probably hurt too much to try and use it. It swung lazily back and forth, but that wasn't stopping her yet. She was still going. Still hoping to find the road. Maybe hitchhike to the nearest hospital. That was the plan, it seemed. Granted, their current professions had already taught them that kind of plan was extremely dangerous. They couldn't just trust some random stranger to drive them to a hospital, could they? How many cases had they worked that involved some naive woman hopping into the car of a stranger and ending up dead? Too many.

Catherine stopped suddenly. She looked over her shoulder at Sara with an expression so sickly, it almost made the brunette hurl. Catherine's features were green around the edges as she hit the dirt, keeling over on her hands and knees. Sara shut her eyes for a moment, her one weakness being saliva. Although, technically, this was a mixture of stomach contents, saliva and other internal juices. She could handle this. She pulled herself together, kneeled down next to her colleague and coaxed, "Let it out. Don't hold back."

Sara grimaced as she listened, holding the blond hair back and out of the way. Catherine was not being shy at this point. Unfortunately, she was spitting up practically nothing, heaving air and stomach fluids. Sara was sure there was nothing in Catherine's stomach to regurgitate, knowing neither one of them could have eaten since the day before.

Once Catherine had a chance to breathe, she asked discouragingly, "Am I supposed to feel like this?"

"Nausea can be a side effect," Sara confirmed.

"Side effect?" Catherine repeated, her eyes giving off this feeble vibe. "_This_ is a side effect?"

Sara had no words, but she did have this sudden urge to comfort. To soothe. She kept her hands to herself, unsure of how Catherine would react. Hell, she wasn't sure how she would react to gracing a hand across Catherine's cheek in an attempt to console. That kind of gesture would show she cared about this woman, when they routinely said or did things to each other that proved otherwise. Instead, Sara tried to be as courteous as possible, "We can rest. Wait for it to pass."

"Oh no, we're not stopping," Catherine argued, pushing herself up off the ground. Her face was contorted into one of discomfort as she walked on. Only a few moments later, did she stop and hit the dirt again. Her body almost completely flat to ground, her "good" arm struggling to hold her up. Sara immediately rushed over, hooking an arm under Catherine's abdomen and supporting her. Catherine coughed a few times, on the verge of getting sick again.

"Hey, hey, it's alright," Sara murmured quietly, holding her ill colleague up and off the ground. Thankfully, Catherine was just tired and not puking again. Once Sara could get her in a more stable position, she pulled away.

With a weak laugh, Catherine changed her mind, "Maybe we can stop just for a second."

"Okay," Sara concurred, making herself as comfortable as possible on the sandy surface. She took this moment to look around. Still nothing but sand in all directions.

They were silent for a while. If it weren't for the bleak circumstance they found themselves in, the desert air could be considered enjoyable. The sun was setting now, the skies darkening ever so slightly. The cool breeze that had begun washed over them causing this calming effect. For a few minutes, they were able to forget everything. Then Catherine coughed violently, ending the moment and bringing them back to reality.

"You okay?" Sara asked immediately. She was so damn worried now.

"Do I look okay?" Catherine joked half heartedly.

"Right. Dumb question."

Catherine took deep breaths, studying Sara. She wanted to say something. Maybe something like "thank you" or "I'm glad you're here with me". However, that would take a little bit of pride swallowing on her part. Instead, she focused on the problem at hand, "What else haven't you told me about the bite?"

Sara's deep brown pools gave away her guilt. She knew something more and had remained silent this entire time. In typical Sara Sidle fashion, she shrugged, "Uh, what do you want to know?"

"Everything."

"Catherine, maybe it's just best if we keep moving. . ."

"Sara, if you just tell me what the hell I'm dealing with, I'll have more motivation to move," Catherine argued, showing her discomfort when she tried to stretch her infected arm.

Sara sighed, then rambled one fact, "The venom in a black widow is 15 times more toxic than a prairie rattlesnake."

"Wonderful," muttered Catherine.

"Hey, you wanted to know."

"What else?"

"If you have a history of heart related issues, you're at risk for heart failure," Sara said as apathetically as possible. She just didn't know how to break any of this information to Catherine without causing unrest. Or maybe at this point, Catherine didn't care, just as long as she knew. Sara watched her stand again and begin to walk with determination. Sara immediately rose from the ground to follow and added, "We have time, Cath. You'll be alright."

Catherine stopped, then glanced over her shoulder. Her expression was slightly forlorn as she spoke dejectedly, "I hope you're right."

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The good news, they had found the road. The bad news, they had found the road.

The sun had almost completely set, which was equally good and bad for Catherine. That oppressive heat was probably a factor in her getting sick nearly three times. On the other hand, they were losing daylight and warmth. It was going to be cold soon. Not to mention, this back road lacked street lamps to light the way. There were no signs to give any indication on where to turn either. Were they on a route that went east to west or north to south? They could just determine direction by the setting sun, but they still didn't know if they were east of Vegas or west.

Were they even near Vegas?

Sara studied their surroundings while she allowed Catherine to lean on her heavily for support. She was obviously tired; losing her will to keep moving. Just to try and lighten the mood, Sara joked, "Hey, don't get any ideas. I'm not carrying you back to Vegas."

"Heh, well, you might have to sweetheart, because I'm not sure I can walk anymore," Catherine managed to smile, before that was replaced with another sickly frown. She groaned and muttered, "Just make the world stop spinning."

Sara rose a hand to Catherine's forehead and said with great fear, "Oh God, Cath. You're burning up."

"Actually, I feel really cold," was the muttered response, her complete weight now leaning into Sara.

Sara grimaced. They didn't have a choice. They would just have to choose a direction and follow the road to wherever it took them. This woman (who was now using Sara as a crutch) was running low on time. Sara repositioned herself, allowing Catherine to wrap an arm around her shoulders. She asked, "Can you walk?"

"Yeah."

They started to walk towards the setting sun. They would have to reach civilization at some point. After only a few minutes of walking, however, Catherine went down taking Sara with her. Sara was on her knees, trying desperately to keep Catherine upright, but eventually had to lay the blond down on her back. She made her as comfortable as possible and heard a faint, "thank you" emit from the lax form.

They were on the side of the road, in the sand, losing more and more daylight and still not a car in sight. Where the hell were they? Why wasn't anyone around?

Sara glanced around, a sudden chill running down her spine. There was also something else about this place. It felt. . .extraordinary and not because of what she could see. It was plain to see sand everywhere. It was just this feeling. Like when that eagle flew over them earlier. The vertigo. That free floating sensation. For some reason, she felt they weren't alone.

A cough returned Sara's attention back to Catherine, who was slowly drifting away. Sara lifted her head and coaxed, "C'mon, Cath. Don't go to sleep. You gotta stay up."

No response. Sara gripped one of the blond's hands firmly and pleaded, "Stay awake for me, Catherine. Stay awake for me, honey."

Still nothing. One last effort, "Okay, if not for me, then stay awake for Lindsey."

That time there was a mumble of something incoherent. Good. A sign of life. Sara continued to talk nonsense, pausing to hear some sort of audible confirmation that Catherine was still among the land of the living. She shed her coat and wrapped that around Catherine's shoulders. She immediately felt the cool desert air nip at her own skin, but mentally prepared herself to ignore it. She could handle the pending low temperatures, but Catherine could not.

Sara was getting little to no response with her efforts to keep Catherine awake and despite her playful warning earlier, she did the only thing she could do at this point. "Catherine, listen to me. I need you to get back up."

There was a grunt of some sort and Sara took that as an okay. She helped Catherine back to her feet, allowing the frail woman to lean into her until she could figure out the logistics of what she was trying to accomplish. She shook Catherine lightly, "Hey, stay awake for me. I'm going to carry you on my back, but you'll have to hold on to me. Can you do that?"

"Sara, you don't have to. . ."

"This isn't a negotiation. Can you do that?" Sara pushed with a gentle, yet strong tone.

"I can try," Catherine muttered, forcing a smile.

"Okay. Trying is good," Sara smiled back. Firstly, Sara helped Catherine get her arms through the sleeves of the coat, so it wouldn't fall off. "Okay, ready?"

"Yeah," Catherine nodded. She clumsily wrapped her arms around Sara's neck, as Sara hooked her arms under Catherine's legs and lifted her up off the ground. Catherine's infected arm was next to useless, barely holding on, but her "good" arm was clinging onto Sara tightly.

"Good?" Sara asked, leaning forward slightly to help balance the weight.

"I'm good."

Sara began walking, then she heard a feeble laugh. "What's so funny?"

"I thought you said ... you wouldn't carry me back," Catherine mumbled into the back of her neck.

"I changed my mind."

"You really do love me."

"Shut-up," Sara ribbed, before releasing a grunt when she took another step forward. It was only now she began to notice the pain shooting up her legs from her feet. These shoes were not ideal for long desert treks and blisters were surely to be a problem real soon. Literally, carrying Catherine on her back wasn't helping matters, but did she have a choice?

A few more steps later and Sara was sure to add, "We'll just keep this to ourselves. I'm sure you don't want the guys to know that I carried you and I'd rather they not find out either."

"Deal," Catherine barely whispered. Even though her new mode of travel was bumpy, to say the least, not even the jarring motion of Sara's pace could keep her eyes open. She was so tired. It was such a fight to stay conscious until they found help. Catherine didn't want to think it, but she began to wonder, would they even make it? Could Sara find a hospital in time? Would she ever see her daughter again?

Her body ached. Her arm felt more like an extension and not a limb. A mind that felt like mush rolled around in her skull causing severe pressure headaches. Catherine wanted to stay awake, but slowly let her eyes close again. . .

Sara could tell she was losing her again. She paused in her walking for a moment to catch her breath and joked, "So what, you weigh like...120 pounds?"

"Ha, don't flatter me," Catherine grinned, her sleepy eyes lighting up for a moment. Sara began walking again at the renewed life in her weak colleague. They had to be nearing help. Someone had to drive by at any moment. Someone had to.

To be continued. . .


	4. Chapter 4

**Eagle Soars**

Part Four

by e-dog

Sara slowly sunk to the ground, gently laying Catherine at her knees. Catherine's head rested under her hands for support. Night had fallen completely, bringing with it crisp, cool air and an ominously bright, full moon. Fatigue was really setting in now. Sara repositioned herself to make them both more comfortable on the rough, desert terrain. Resting Indian style, her folded legs serving as a pillow for Catherine's head, Sara leaned back on her arms and shut her eyes for a moment. She had to rest before attempting to carry Catherine any further.

"Sara?" came a weak plea from the woman cradled in her lap.

Sara was relieved Catherine was still awake and eagerly answered by brushing hair out of the older woman's face. Her gesture was dainty and she wondered if the sickly woman even felt it. She finally answered, "Yeah, Cath?"

It took another few seconds, but a wry grin spread across the blond's face as she exclaimed in a gruff voice, "I officially hate spiders."

Sara suppressed her laugh, allowing her fingers to more urgently stroke the blond hair in a soothing motion. She heard a sigh in satisfaction at the impromptu massage and it mildly startled her. What was she doing? Sitting here, stroking hair like it was the most natural thing in the world. Well, it wasn't. This wasn't normal. This shouldn't be happening.

Yet, Sara couldn't stop looking at the fragile form below her with a deep sense of unabated concern. She couldn't turn away from someone who pissed her off on almost a daily basis. Sara ceased her movements mostly out of confusion, but was stabbed with a disgruntled groan from Catherine. "Don't stop," she mumbled.

Sara had never felt the urge to take care of someone so badly before and she immediately continued her massaging motion. Catherine must have noticed how extremely attentive Sara had become as well, because she opened her eyes and said, "Sara. This isn't your fault."

"I could've stopped Martinez," Sara shook her head in frustration. "You shouldn't be here. . .like this."

A new found determination forced Sara to stand up again. She helped Catherine back to her feet as well. Unable to hold her own weight, Catherine leaned into Sara, her weak hands clinging as tightly as they could to Sara's shirt. Those hands holding on to her like she was the only lifeline left was enough to make Sara's heart break. She took a deep breath knowing now was not the time to cry. This was not the time to give up.

Sara held back any emotion threatening to overtake her and hugged Catherine to her tightly. She promised, "I'm going to find help. If I have to carry you for the next hundred miles, I swear you're going to be alright."

Catherine's head was resting in the crook of Sara's neck and she released a sigh of appreciation. A sigh that made Sara wish this embrace, this hold they had on each other would last forever. It was this wish that made Sara realize the change that had occurred within herself.

She began to wonder when the pieces of her heart began to shift. She began to wonder why it took a tragedy to melt the walls between them. To allow for this kind of intimate contact. Sara kissed the top of Catherine's head before repeating softly, "You'll be okay."

The move to kiss her felt so natural, that it didn't occur to Sara that it really wasn't natural at all; not until Catherine moved away from her slightly. Eyes continually draining of life and feeling looked at her with great intrigue and something else Sara couldn't quite place. She now felt abashed by her actions and proceeded to distract the blond.

Sara wrapped her coat around Catherine tighter, then instructed it was time to move again. She managed to lift the weak form onto her back once more with a strength she never knew she possessed. Her body protested at the added weight, but she had to ignore it. She had to keep going.

"Sara, please. . .," Catherine protested, her eyes fluttering closed. Her voice even weaker, "Don't push so hard. . .can't save them all."

"No, I can't. But I will save you."

Sara was no stranger to feeling responsible for someone's life. There had been plenty of cases in which she felt she was the only one who could save the victim. Except, this was not a victim. This was Catherine. Sara was here, forced to be the one to spout off phrases like, "You'll be alright." She was here stroking blond hair. She was here carrying a sick friend on her back in hopes of finding help. She was here praying for a miracle.

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Sara trudged along, her legs getting weaker along with her resolve. Catherine was doing no better, her only sign of life being her left hand weakly clutching the thin fabric of Sara's long-sleeved tee. The banter between them had stopped. There was the occasional grunt of discomfort on Catherine's part, but mostly there was silence.

There was nothing but desert all around them and she feared it could take hours before they reached any type of civilization. Catherine didn't have hours. She possibly didn't have minutes.

Sara took in a deep breath, her feet screaming at her to stop. Her head was swimming due to lack of sleep and lack of food. She had to blink constantly in order to refocus her eyes. She took deep breathes, vowing to keep Catherine first. Her own physical needs did not matter. All that mattered was finding help for Catherine. Sara noticed the prolonged silence of her colleague again. Her voice barely above a whisper, she repeated a phrase she had been using all night, "Stay awake for me, Catherine."

No reply.

Sara's voice was slightly panicky, "Please, Cath. We're getting closer, I just know it. Stay awake for me."

"I'm awake," was the response. The voice was deadened. Catherine had given up, but Sara had not. They couldn't give up yet.

Sara could feel the sting of tears again. She was watching a colleague die. She was witnessing for the second time in a matter of weeks a friend withering away, but this time she feared there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it. They needed help. They needed an awesome event to take place. Some divine entity to swoop down and save them.

At that moment, there was a familiar shriek in the air and Sara paused her walking. She glanced up and saw the cloaked figure of a bird flying overhead against the midnight sky. She implored to the heavens above hoping it wasn't a vulture or anything, but the shape seemed too thin and refined to be that bulky animal. After careful study, she realized that it was the eagle they had spotted before.

Then Sara began to envision other predators of the night as she pressed on. She didn't think about wolves or coyotes and those possible dangers. How much longer could they trek out here without encountering more of nature's hazards?

Sara paused in her walking again, a dizzy spell hitting her once more. What was going on with her? Was it simply fatigue making the world spin around her? Maybe so. Unfortunately, this also meant she had to rest again.

Sighing, she slowly helped Catherine lie down on the ground again. She felt guilty for stopping, but she needed another break. Looking at Catherine in such a weak state made her scowl. How could something as small as a spider do this to such a strong human being?

Sara literally fell to the ground, her weariness being something she couldn't ignore any longer. It was bad enough feeling trite and helpless and useless, but the physical ailments were starting to become more than she could bear. Her head was spinning, her vision blurring. Every muscle in her body stretched to their limit. She imagined she had a few more miles in her, if that, before she fainted from exhaustion. She stared at Catherine with desolate eyes as another promise she had made was about to be broken. How could she swear to carry Catherine another 100 miles when she could barely move herself?

Sara rubbed her eyes, yawned and kept her eyes closed for a minute or two. A rustling in the branches startled her back to reality. A reality that seemed to be worsening every second.

Her breath hitched as she saw a dark figure standing only two feet away. His hands hung at his side, broad shoulders adding to his mystery and intrigue. What scared her most was that she didn't even see him until that very moment. He had just materialized, it seemed, out of nowhere. Finally finding her voice, she asked with venom dripping from her words, "Who are you?"

He didn't speak. Sara watched fearfully as he reached into his pocket. God, he was going for a gun. She just knew it. She wanted to scramble away, but to where? They would be dead before she could scamper away. After two very longs seconds, she sighed somewhat in relief. He merely pulled out a small object. A clicking sound was next and then suddenly there was light. Sara blinked at the sudden illumination to find he was holding a lighter. She continued to stare, taking in his features completely.

He had a kind face, with soft worry wrinkles and even softer eyes, contrasting the might of his shoulders and the obvious muscle in his upper arms. Tan skin and clean shaven face, he seemed to blush slightly as he spoke in a deep, calming voice, "I apologize for startling you. My name is Raji."

Sara was still somewhat flustered, but tried to remain still. He didn't appear to be a predator, but then again, neither did Paul Martinez. She swallowed hard, "What do you want?"

"I was told I would find you here," he said, inching closer and bending his tall frame down slightly to get a closer look at Catherine. "She is very ill. I can help you."

He was told he could find her here? What the hell did that mean? Sara was suddenly very protective, reaching out and pulling Catherine even closer to her body and refusing to let this stranger give them any kind of "help". She warned, "We have friends looking for us. You will be caught if you decide to do anything. . ."

"Please, miss, those are not my intentions at all!" Raji insisted, raising his hand in quiet defense. "Let me help this woman."

"She needs a hospital."

"There's no time. Hospitals are not built around here for people like us," Raji said, his voice darkening some. It sounded more bitter, than angry. He rose to his feet, pointing in a direction she thought to be east and insisted, "My home is not but a few miles from here."

"You just expect me to trust you? You jump out of the shadows seemingly from nowhere and want me to believe your offer of help is genuine?"

Raji smiled knowingly. He knelt down, bringing the lighter closer to his face. He spoke calmly still as he said, "You have to admit, it's quite strange to find you out here. . .in the dark and alone with a very ill woman. I found you here. Seeing how this is my home, I should be wary of you, miss."

Sara stole another glance at the woman in her arms. She was knocked out again and not even the gentle shaking was bringing her out of it. Sara called out softly, "Catherine? C'mon, Cath. Wake up for me."

No response.

"I _can_ help you," Raji insisted gently. His voice hauntingly calm.

Despite what the logic in her head was telling her, something about this man felt safe and she wasn't sure why. On the other hand, her initial plan had been to hitch a ride with one of locals and that wasn't a much safer option than the one standing in front of her. With reluctance, she stated, "I can't carry her on my own anymore."

"Not a problem, "Raji beamed warmly at her. The lighter went out. He stood in front of Sara and easily scooped up Catherine into his arms, relieving her of the weight. He then graced Sara with another flash of his easy, gentle eyes and requested with a calm insistence, "Follow me. We must hurry."

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From the moment Raji appeared to the moment she decided to follow him, she looked back on that brief second in time with a surreal perspective. What the hell was going on here? Had she lost her mind? She was still drugged, right? This was a dream? The cold nipped her skin forcing her to realize this was true. Unquestionable. She was following a man supposedly named Raji across cool desert earth, carrying Catherine so close to him he could've made anyone believe that he was in love with the woman in his arms.

Sara couldn't mistake the heat radiating from him. She couldn't make out if his caring words were full of the lust of a predator or of a genuinely concerned man wanting to help. She didn't like this uncertainty. She didn't like not having other choices.

His pace was quick. So quick, it was hard to believe he was merely walking and not running. Sara had to double time it to keep up with him. They were heading further into the desert, walking to what seemed like nowhere. She still couldn't see anything that resembled architecture and her doubts assailed her again.

Maybe allowing this man to help wasn't such a good idea after all. Not to mention what he had told her when they first met: _"I was told I would find you here."_ Who told him who they were or where they had been dumped? She could only wonder if this Raji (if that was really his name) was actually in cahoots with Martinez and making sure they were silenced permanently.

Except, that theory made very little sense given the fact Martinez willingly untied her hands and gave them a chance to live. He seemed too eager to get the hell out of Nevada and toward warmer climates to want to play any more mind games. So how much longer till they reached this man's home?

"We are nearly there, I promise," he answered her unspoken question astonishingly. He seemed to be reading her mind, making sure she was comfortable but allowing his urgency to keep up the tempo and dull her concerns. She had to admit, his smooth demeanor and flowing voice was doing just that. She was stuck between her natural mistrust of any strange man and her desire to put her complete hope in the fact that he could help Catherine recover.

Finally, she could see artificial light in the distance and said a silent thank you to whatever deity provided this miracle. A few seconds later, she could make out a camp fire and some chairs. Beyond that, a medium sized trailer with one door and two windows on the front. A soft orange glow emitted from inside.

Outside was an older man in a rocking chair, his eyes closed and a slight hum escaping from in between his lips. The melody was sweet, the profound tone resonating beautifully from deep within the man's soul. This beauty was disrupted as Raji rushed past all the camping materials, heading straight for this man as he proclaimed, "Grandfather, this woman is ill!"

The older man promptly came to life, speaking in some tongue that Sara was not fluent in. Well, not to say she was fluent in any other language besides English, but this wasn't Spanish or French she was hearing either. The old man slowly stood, motioning with his hands his instructions and Raji merely nodded in response.

Sara began to wonder if they even wanted to know what was making Catherine ill in the first place, but she didn't get a chance to say. Raji suddenly forced the front door of the trailer open with his foot and took Catherine inside. Sara wasn't about to leave her in there alone with this benevolent stranger, but as she went to follow, a strong hand landed on her shoulder and kept her back. She turned around to the old man and he shook his head no, "Let the Great Spirit be."

"Huh?" Sara mumbled, not quite understanding. Then it finally hit her. Raji and his Grandfather were Native Americans. What tribe they were from she was unsure, but using the terms "Great Spirit" finally clued her in. She slowly turned to face him and urged, "I have to be in there with her, sir. You have to understand. . ."

"Please sit," he offered, pointing to an empty chair beside his rocker.

Sara eagerly stared at the door, only wanting to follow her instincts and rush to Catherine's side. As if her wish was being granted, Raji opened the door and smiled, "I'm sorry, miss. I tend to forget that not everyone thinks the way we do. Please, come inside."

"Raji, the Great Spirit does not permit. . .," his grandfather objected.

"It's okay, Grandfather. We must be open to their ways too," Raji continued to smile, as he placed a reassuring hand on Sara's arm to pull her inside. He told her with great confidence, "She will be alright. Come inside."

Sara did as she was told without haste, feeling the disapproving glare of Raji's grandfather on her back. Once inside, she was met with sparse furniture, an old television with rabbit ears and a resting Catherine tightly wrapped up in blankets on the lone bed near the far end of the trailer. She looked relaxed, the weight of the spider's venom finally lifting.

Sara could hardly breathe as she watched, waiting on those eyes to open up. Waiting to hear that voice that drove her damn near up the wall with rage constantly. Unfortunately, his words were the next thing she heard as he reassured,"She will be fine. And don't mind my grandfather. He is not as accepting to modern medicine as am I."

At the word 'medicine', Sara's gumption kicked in and she pointed out, "She was bitten by a black widow. She needs..."

"An antitoxin, I know," Raji smiled. "I've seen this condition before. It's common around here, unfortunately. Especially among tourists." He pointed to a cabinet above his head revealing several modern medicines and containers. They were no doubt bought by illegal gains, but Sara would be willing to let that slide just this one time. She also couldn't help but scold herself for thinking that Raji had performed some ancient healing ritual learned from his people. It was a rather stereotypical train of thought.

"What did you do?" Sara asked, spying a small medicine cup. She could see an opened bottle near the bed and an expended syringe. He was in the process of placing gauze on Catherine's arm where the needled had punctured. He had already administered the medicine. But administered what exactly? Was it really the antitoxin? She caught his gaze and he immediately understood.

He picked up the bottle for her to see and commented, "You are a suspicious one."

"I investigate crimes," Sara replied, looking at the label and confirming it's contents. "It's my job to be suspicious."

"Well, not too suspicious to follow a stranger back to his humble home in the middle of the desert, I take it," he countered, winking in an effort to make her smile. She didn't smile at his charm, but she almost did. He placed the cap on the bottle and twisted it shut and told her sincerely, "There is no reason to suspect me of anything, miss. I only want to help."

Raji ushered her to a well worn couch and pointed to the mug on the small coffee table. "Drink. It'll warm you up."

Sara picked up the mug, realizing for the first time that she was cold. Her first reaction was to suspect the contents of the liquid, but she could feel Raji's eyes on her. She finally replied with a small, "Thank you."

"You're welcome, miss."

Sara paused, finally loosening up. "Please, call me Sara."

"Sara," He repeated with a short nod, happy for the acceptance and made his way over to her. He sat down next to her and grabbed a mug of tea for himself. He focused his attention on the warm liquid, obviously relishing in its warmth. She sipped occasionally, admiring the simplicity of this small home. If one could call it a home, anyways.

The lamp looked as if it transported itself here from the '70s, a soft orange glow it cast on the entire space. The carpet was well worn, almost so thin, she could have mistaken it for hard flooring. Everything in here was ancient, except for the microwave and compact refrigerator. Those appliances looked relatively new. There was a small sink and a little door that led to a bathroom. What surprised her most, however, was the lack of decoration. For some reason, she expected oodles of Native American artwork, craftsmanship or anything remotely related. She saw a headdress and a few random clothing items strewn on furniture, but that was all.

"We lost much of our artifacts many years ago," he supplied, surprising her again.

Sara blushed in embarrassment. Was her staring that obvious? She mumbled, "Sorry."

"You're not the first to have those questions running through your head," Raji answered simply. She heard him sigh, as he reverted his attention to the sleeping form taking refuge in his bed. He asked curiously,"What is her name? If you don't mind me asking."

"Catherine," Sara replied, now letting her eyes view the condition of her friend. She seemed so peaceful now. The color returning to her face. It wasn't until Raji spoke again, did she feel that a satisfied smile had crossed her face.

"You seem close."

Sara laughed, "Hardly. We're rarely civil with each other."

"I don't know," Raji smiled, making eye contact with her. Damn, those soft, all-knowing eyes. They were captivating, there was no denying that. He commented with a wry smile, "The way you held her out there...I just assumed you were very close."

Sara could feel her ears burning and she wasn't quite sure why. She let her hair fall over most of her face in an effort to hide her flushed cheeks. This would be a good time to change the subject.

"You said there aren't hospitals around here?" she reiterated, her voice now showing her complete confusion. What was it about this place that seemed so. . .age-old? Uninhabited?

Raji could only laugh as he confirmed, "That's right. You're right in the center of a reservation, Sara. Miles from what you would call civilization."

"A reservation?" Sara wondered aloud. "I didn't know there were any reservations near Vegas."

Raji turned to fully face her, his face now looking surprised for the first time since meeting him. He

shook his head in the negative and confirmed, "Well, to the best of my knowledge, I don't think there are any reservations near Vegas. But outside Reno, yes."

"Reno?" Sara repeated in shock. She leaned back into the cushions of the couch completely stunned. Her mind immediately went into calculations, assessing what she just heard. That meant Martinez kidnapped them, drove all the way up Interstate 95 for about 400 miles and dropped them off outside Reno just for kicks. They were about 8 hours away from home. It would take a miracle for Grissom and the others to figure out where they really were! She rubbed her eyes, mostly because she was tired and partly because she was frustrated and bewildered. They were in Reno. . .

To be continued. . .


	5. Chapter 5

**Eagle Soars**

Part Five

by e-dog

Raji sipped his tea, glancing every few minutes toward the far end of the trailer to check on Catherine. He was being so attentive. Sara was still amazed at how much he cared for the well being of two complete strangers. Not to mention two women who bore the same color of the persons who pushed his nation onto this land in the first place. Land that was "given" to him as some form of reparation.

Even still, this fact didn't seem to phase him. He was an accepting human being; articulate, educated and possessed a willingness to open up to new ways of thinking as evidenced by his medicine cabinet. Despite this difference in the typical stereotype of which his people were always portrayed, there was this air about him that spoke his true pride in being who he was. He would never abandon what his ancestors gave to him.

"You must be hungry," he stated confidently, rising from the couch and heading for the door. "Come. We will eat outside so as not to disturb Catherine."

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It was beautiful outside, the night sky surprisingly bright and suddenly full of promise. They were seated in well-worn lawn chairs in a circle around a small fire. Their meal consisted of bread, tea and linked sausage. Raji profusely apologized for not having anything more substantial, but Sara just as insistently told him it was fine.

He was a lot more modern than she had anticipated with his use of china and glassware. She greatly appreciated his mixing of two cultures and still making them entirely his own.

During their meal, Raji had been checking up on Catherine. He announced that she had awoken briefly, but sleep had reclaimed her quickly. Neither one of them felt like disturbing her again until she was ready to completely wake up on her own.

"So, Raji, I'm not quite sure I understand how you found us," Sara began, feeling a need to fill the silence.

Raji suddenly beamed at her and said happily, "Eagle found you last night. He told me where to find you."

"Eagle?" Sara repeated. He nodded and she remembered the shriek of the bird. So that was how Raji found them? He heard that eagle cry out as it had circled above them than followed the noise?

Raji's face lit up with excitement. He leaned forward in his chair and began in a tone different from the one he had been using before. It held a sense of superbia and dignity. "Eagle, Sara, is very sacred to my people. The Paiute use Eagle as a guide in every day life. Eagle Medicine is a power used by the Great Spirit and passed down to Chiefs like my grandfather." There was a slight pause in the narration as Sara took time to rest her eyes on the older gentlemen once more. He had been sitting far away from them in his rocker, but he suddenly looked even more proud, if that was possible.

"Eagle soars, and is quick to observe expansiveness within the overall pattern of life. From the heights of the clouds, Eagle is close to the heavens where the Great Spirit lives. He can see all. He knows all. That is how Eagle found you."

Sara couldn't fight the smile crossing her face, "So Eagle told you where to find us?"

"His shriek could be heard for miles. I knew I was being called to help." Raji placed his empty glass down and smiled. He reached around his neck to remove a necklace of beads and string. He stood up, walked over to her and slowly draped it on her neck instead. Sara immediately objected, but he shook his head to quiet her. "I sense there are more obstacles ahead. This will bring you good fortune."

"How could I ever thank you for what you've done?" Sara murmured, her hand absentmindedly fingering the beads with care. Then she added with more emphasis, "How could we?"

"You don't have to do anything," Raji promised, his smile soft and sincere. His next words were strangely comforting, yet somewhat forbidding. "You did everything that was in your power to help Catherine. She will be eternally grateful."

Sara could only offer up a wary smile in response, pondering his statement of power. Raji sensed her discomfort. He held up a finger to indicate he would be one moment. He disappeared inside the trailer once more, then returned to her literally seconds later. In his hands, a simple red clay bowl. Inside, there was a brown substance which more or less looked like mud. He pulled his chair closer to her and said softly, "I wish I could assure you of my trustworthiness."

"Raji. . ." she tried to interrupt. Contrary to what he believed, she was beginning to grow fond of her benevolent stranger.

"No, it's okay, Sara. I sense the apprehension," he explained graciously. It was as if he had been through something like this many times before. He held up the bowl, "This is Eagle Medicine. I noticed your hands are scarred."

For the first time since the incident, Sara looked at her hands. She vaguely remembered Paul Martinez pushing her into the ground. She had used her hands to break her fall. The minuscule cuts had all closed up, but the scabs were sure to leave nice little markings for memory's sake. Raji's large hand covered both of hers as he enveloped them in warmth. She looked up at him curiously as he smiled, "I can help with that. Only then can you understand."

Sara, still abashed that Raji thought she was still threatened by his presence, tried to reassure she truly appreciated his help. He wouldn't let her get a word out. Instead, he began to hum. His voice just as musical, if not more melodious than his grandfather's. Something in the air changed around her, but she wasn't quite sure what it was. It was magical and surreal. Just like before, when following Raji across the cool desert earth, a strange sensation washed through her. What was it about this place that felt so safe and new, even though this desert looked like the miles of desert before and after it?

The seconds passed slowly and suddenly Sara was acutely aware of the various sounds. The noise of the insects and Raji's humming of some unknown, yet familiar song. She couldn't understand his words, but she could feel the meaning. A song of hope. A song of healing.

It was so peaceful here. So blissfully peaceful and serene. It was a far cry from the noise and gusto of Vegas and for a few moments Sara was on cloud-nine. His song took a different key, it seemed, as she could feel a shift in subject. The feeling of hope she could ascertain from the flowing lyrics had suddenly turned to love. Love and respect. These two things she quickly equated to Catherine, which definitely surprised her therefore effectively bringing her back to reality. The reality being Raji spreading that brown guck all over her hands. She had wanted to shout out her utter shock at seeing that stuff all over her palms, but she couldn't. What he called "Eagle Medicine" was surprisingly soothing.

He took water from a nearby pan and washed her hands thoroughly. His humming ceased. With a gentle nod, he told her, "Look."

She studied her hands, her eyes widening in amazement. The scabs and scars were gone. Her hands looked as pure as the day she was born. Baby soft, pale in a fresh, lively way. Her eyes returned to what she assumed was Raji's attempt at being smug, although his modesty was clearly winning out. His smile wide and clearly proud of the job his little performance had accomplished. She stared at her hands again, then back up at him. Reaching within the vast depths of her vocabulary, all she could muster was a barely audible, "Wow."

He chuckled, "Yes, that is a most common reaction."

"How?" Sara asked. She was happy she could at least muster one word sentences seeing how her analytical mind was trying to figure out what was really inside that red clay bowl. A mixture of some cocoa butter with some crazy herbs and spices? She frowned at her tiredness. That just sounded like a really bad cake recipe for disaster.

"Now that, Sara, is a very old secret," he said, leaving no room for discussion. "Only the Paiute people know it."

Sara shut her eyes and yawned rather obnoxiously. She thought she managed an apology, but wasn't sure. The events of the day were finally catching up to her.

Raji immediately noticed her fatigue and rose to his feet. He grabbed a blanket and told her gently, "How silly of me! You must sleep, Sara. Your friend will probably not wake again until morning."

"I'm not tired," Sara objected, but she wasn't sure why. Raji was not someone who knew of her odd sleep patterns, but she had a feeling he didn't care either. He was a savior that didn't take no for an answer. He held out his hand waiting for her to grab it. She reached up, only to groan at the soreness in her muscles. Then Raji surprised her again, picking her up off her chair. Before she knew it, Raji was tucking her into the bed next to Catherine and saying goodnight.

"Everything will be fine once morning comes," he promised, his words so relieving and loving. Oddly enough, they also sounded like a goodbye. Where could he possibly go? Sara closed her eyes as she yawned, then opened them again to thank Raji for all his help. She frowned when she noticed he had already left, the orange glow of the light already extinguished leaving the entire trailer in darkness. Well, she could always thank Raji in the morning.

Sara turned onto her side, making sure she was facing Catherine. After several minutes of watching, she shut her eyes. How did they become so lucky to find such a caring soul out here in the middle of nowhere?

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Sara could feel hot air rhythmically hitting her face. She could perceive the hint of an all too familiar perfume and this made her smile. Sara slowly opened her eyes as she heard Catherine say tiredly, "Hey, Sidle."

It was amazing what those two words could do. They sent her heart soaring in relief, a feeling that was hard to come by in her life lately. Her mind eased out of its sleepy state and focused on the here and now. Catherine was going to be alright. The antitoxin had worked and Catherine was going to be alright. Sara blinked her eyes a few times, trying to completely wake up. She propped her head up with her hand and asked, "How are you feeling?"

"Dazed," was the initial response, as the blond shut her eyes again and twisted her body showing her soreness. She then added cheekily, "I'm also kinda wondering why we're sharing the same bed."

Sara fought the grin spreading on her face, as she let her head rest on the pillows once more. She couldn't stop smiling broadly as she answered, "Well, we got drunk last night. _Really_ drunk. One thing led to another and then. . ."

Catherine laughed, interrupting Sara's faux explanation. It was a weak laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. Sara felt a hand intertwine with hers somewhere between the sheets and felt a slight squeeze of gratitude. Catherine turned her head to face Sara again and remarked playfully, "I don't think I've ever noticed this side of you before. This dry humor that gets increasingly more annoying each time you try to make a joke."

"Try? I think I'm pretty funny," Sara retorted, giving the other woman's hand a squeeze in return. This friendly banter was new. Fun. Sadly, it would probably be short-lived after this life threatening situation was truly over and they were back in Vegas. Sara could already envision long hours of bickering; challenging one another's opinions on the job. She could remember her less than excited demeanor arriving at Paul Martinez's home the day before, expecting a fight with an already sleep deprived, grumpy Catherine. She assumed Catherine expected the same thing. After this, she wondered, how could they go back to before?

"So, really. Where are we?" Catherine asked, adverting their conversation to a more serious tone and breaking Sara from her musing.

"Somewhere near Reno, apparently," Sara answered, then added to be more specific. "We're on a reservation."

"What? You're kidding," Catherine said amazed, before yawning involuntarily. She could feel Sara inch closer to her, mistaking her yawning as a sign of pain. She chuckled weakly at the protective streak her co-worker was now on, "I'm okay, Sara."

"Are you sure?" Sara pushed, her voice laced with worry.

"I'm just tired, honestly," Catherine reassured.

Sara's smile was soft and sincere, "Good. I'm glad you're okay." Then Sara heard a most unexpected reply.

"I really do feel much better. Thanks to you."

Sara began to blush fiercely, so she ducked her head to hide. She initially thought her feelings of concern and protectiveness were results of wanting to help Catherine. Now that the help had been found and received, these feelings were still emerging from a much deeper place. A low chuckle emitted from the body next to her and Sara began to wonder if she was being that transparent. Could Catherine sense her evident confusion of their relationship that quickly? Her paranoia was quelled when the blond remarked casually, "I had the strangest dream."

Sara, grateful for the change in subject, gave her undivided attention back to Catherine, "Is that so?"

"Yeah, the dream itself wasn't strange. What was strange was how real it all felt," Catherine sighed. "I was lying down and there was this figure hovering over me. I could tell by the broad shoulders it was a man, but I couldn't make out his face. Anyway, I just knew he was a good person and that he was there to help me. I know it was a dream, but something about it was very. . ."

"True? Unquestionable?" Sara suggested, understanding all too well Raji's effect on a person. Catherine nodded. Sara smiled again, "He was real, Cath. He helped you."

Catherine's eyes squinted in confusion. Raji was probably asleep on the couch and now felt like a good time to wake him. Sara moved to leave, but felt Catherine grab her arm in obvious disarray. Sara smiled, "It's okay. I'm just going to find Raji."

"Raji?" Catherine questioned, than yawned again.

"He's the one who really saved you," Sara explained, gently getting up off the bed. "I'll be right back, okay?"

Sara slowly ventured back toward the center of the trailer to call their hero only to gasp in shock. The room was eerily dim as dust floated all around her. The furniture was either missing or tattered. The few artifacts Sara could remember being scattered around the trailer were gone. Not one piece of Paiute history could be found to indicate Raji or his Grandfather ever lived here. It was as if this place had been uninhabited for years! Sara shook her head in amazement and whispered to herself, "How could this be?"

She glanced over her shoulder to make sure Catherine was still in the bed. Satisfied to see the blond had closed her eyes again, Sara treaded carefully into the living room. Or what used to be the living room, anyway. She suddenly missed the '70s decor that once seemed so gaudy the night before. Having assessed that this place was not as it was, she could only think of doing one thing. She called out meekly, "Raji? Are you here?"

There was no answer. In fact, she couldn't hear anything at all. Not the sound of the birds or insects. Not the crackling of the small fire that burned the previous night. Even the rocking of Grandfather's chair had ceased. There was nothing.

She found the lamp that glowed of orange and pulled on the string in hopes she could shed some light on this place. The fixture clicked, but it refused to light. She turned around and squinted her eyes noticing for the first time the sunlight shining through an opening where the door used to be.

Sara stepped out into the morning sun. What used to look like Raji's home was a mere shell of itself. The door was missing, the exterior weather worn and rusty. His Grandfather's rocking chair was gone. There were no lawn chairs. No firewood. Nothing was here. It was all gone.

She looked at her surroundings, remembering how lively this place was only to see how dead it appeared to be now. Her stomach growled as if she hadn't eaten the night before. She rubbed her eyes, not understanding, not fathoming that she dreamed the last 12 hours. There was no way she imagined what happened last night, right? Raji was real. He carried Catherine over the desert. He brought them here. He had to be real.

"Sara?" Catherine called from behind her. Sara turned around quickly to see her leaning in the doorway, looking at her with the most befuddled expression.

"He's gone," Sara muttered, her voice barely audible. "Everything is gone."

Catherine continued to look at her with great confusion, "What's gone, Sara?"

"Raji," Sara managed to croak, her voice just barely above a whisper. That's when Sara noticed something out of the corner of her eye. A car. It was parked about ten feet from the trailer. She definitely didn't remember that from the night before. The make and model looked oddly familiar though. She could see a figure in the front seat. It appeared to be slouched and unmoving. "Catherine, just stay in the doorway, okay?"

"Sara, what the hell is going on with you?" Catherine asked, now sounding irritated.

Sara slowly approached the car, noticing the driver's side door was partially open. At the base, an expended syringe and a medicine bottle. When Sara was close enough to see inside, she stopped as her gut twisted into knots. "Cath, it's him. It's Martinez."

No wonder she recognized the car. It was the Volkswagen. The same car they were packed into and rode in for several hours, bringing them here to Reno, Nevada.

Catherine squinted into the sun, trying to see for herself from her position in the door, "Are you sure? The same guy?"

"Yeah, it's him," Sara confirmed, the lifeless eyes wide with hopelessness. The same look that had been in Catherine's merely hours before. It was a look that made her positively sick to her stomach because it could've been frozen permanently on Catherine's face. Which brought her back to the present, to now. If Raji wasn't here, how was Catherine saved? How did Martinez wind up dead in his own car near this trailer? Sara spied the syringe again, noticed some kicked up dirt and determined there had been some sort of struggle.

She glanced at her hands, fresh cuts covering her old ones. Had she fought with someone?

Her mind was yelling at her, pulling her in two directions. Raji helped you! Raji is not here!

Her old scars were still there. The Eagle Medicine that Raji had used obviously had never existed in the first place. So, if whatever she thought to have happened didn't really happen, then how could she explain the sudden appearance of Martinez's lifeless body?

"Sara?" Catherine called, concern evident in her voice.

Sara heard her name, but didn't respond. The truth about last night suddenly dawned on her. It was the only logical explanation.

Sara turned to a still very bewildered Catherine and said with the utmost confidence, "I think I know what really happened here."

Before she could explain, the wail of police sirens startled both women, as two unmarked police cars and a medic truck drove up. With lights flashing brightly, they could see Brass and Grissom in the first car as it wildy came to a stop. In a second car following close behind they could spy Warrick and Greg. Grissom jumped out before Brass could even cut the engine and he called out with as much desperation as he could muster, "Sara? Catherine?"

He rushed over, then took Sara's hand in his. He seemed very uncertain about hugging her, so opted to get down to business instead, "We got a call from the Reno police. A local man named Sam said he was checking up on the reservation's inhabitants and found a car with a body in it. The same car that Martinez drove. He reported it to his sheriff."

"Uh, well. . .we were, um...Sam?" Sara stuttered, then noticed Catherine trying to climb out of the trailer on her own. She immediately went over to help, arriving just in time as Catherine clumsily fell into her arms. The awkward fall turned into an embrace as Sara asked urgently, "Cath, you alright?"

"I'm fine," Catherine insisted, but found herself having difficulty in pulling away from Sara's protective hug. She repeated much more quietly, "I'm fine."

Grissom was caught up in studying the embrace, his disarray of their sudden closeness evident. When he felt the presence of Warrick and Greg behind him, he found the gumption to rush over to the two women and plead, "I think you should see a doctor, Catherine. I think _both _of you should."

An EMT was pushing up a wheelchair just as Grissom advised this. He helped Catherine into it, then asked Sara if she needed anything. A wave of lightheadedness hit her hard, effectively cutting off any kind of motor skills and she stumbled backwards. She was suddenly very warm, the oppressing sun more than she could tolerate. Not able to fight off this latest attack of vertigo, Sara fell over and hit the ground. The last thing she heard was the desperate shout of her name leaving Catherine's lips.

To be continued. . .


	6. Chapter 6

**Eagle Soars**

Part Six

by e-dog

"_Martinez kidnapped us at random. He probably had no idea what to do with us. He talked a good game, but now I'm convinced he was just as scared as we were once he realized what he had done. He was looking good for murder and now had abducted two criminialists. I remember when I woke up, he was insistent on telling me that he wasn't a killer. Funny thing, now I believe him." _

Paul Martinez felt the sweat pouring down his body as he carried the second CSI to the designated resting place. He had gone over several scenarios in his head as to what to do with them. Killing them was not an option. He just couldn't stomach the idea. Knowing his no good partner's body was stashed away in his trunk was enough to make him hurl. So no, he couldn't kill them, but this was good.

This was just evil enough to satisfy him and a big enough distraction for the local police. Dumping them here would give him enough time to escape. After driving straight for 8 hours, he was just finally glad he had a plan.

He felt a pinprick sting on his hand and jumped up. A little black spider hit the ground and crawled away. There was a minor itch, but nothing he couldn't handle. Besides, he only had time to get the hell out of Reno.

"_I think Paul had dropped us near a patch of greenery. A place where water was abundant enough for spiders or any other creature to live richly. He was bitten, but completely unaware of the danger. _

_I woke up and he explained his plan to me. He made it clear that the road wasn't far and that we would live. So he drives away, starts to feel the symptoms and most likely steers his car off the road once delirium starts to set in. Now he knows it was the spider. Lucky for him, he's come across the trailer. He goes inside, finds some old canisters of antitoxin and tries to save himself. He's too late." _

Paul stumbled out of the busted up trailer, the night air feeling frigid and remorseless. He had fallen asleep on the bed, at some point vomiting, but he couldn't remember when all that had happened. Letting sleep claim him had been such a stupid thing to let happen, but thank his lucky stars he had woken himself up. He even had the good sense to look around the trailer for a phone, but found something much better.

An old newspaper on the ground at his feet spoke words to him that were purely divine. The article spoke of a legend. A man who helped people in need. Paul rummaged through the trailer, hoping to find the miracle that the newspaper spoke of. Lucky for him, he did.

Once outside, he shivered again. He was beginning to fear hypothermia more than death, the shivers and shakes were getting that bad. In his hands were a syringe and a bottle of antitoxin. Or what he hoped to be antitoxin. He settled into his car, fumbling with the medical supplies. Then he heard footsteps.

"Paul, I can't let you have that," someone said. The voice was muffled, unclear. Maybe his ears were blocking up because of the toxin or maybe he was dreaming. He really couldn't tell. He got back out of the car, still holding what he hoped to be a cure. His cure.

He saw the dark figure approaching as it reiterated, "That wasn't meant for you. I'm sorry."

"What? Who the hell are you?" Paul demanded, his voice weakened and strained. He grasped the antitoxin tightly.

"She needs it. It's not her time," the mysterious stranger tried to explain. "I wish I didn't have to choose between two lives."

Paul's vision was still too blurry to make out who this person was and he sure as hell couldn't figure out why they deserved to live more than he. He hadn't killed anyone. . .on purpose.

"I'm not. . .giving it up," Paul stuttered, then collapsed against his car. He had to inject that cure into him as soon as possible. The figure stepped forward just as the cry of an eagle above washed over them. The eyes that were passing judgement on him glowed with a blue, fiery blaze. Paul was frozen in place due to fear, bewilderment and amazement. How could this be? "I . . .can't believe this. You. . .you shouldn't be here!"

Gentle hands had no trouble taking the antitoxin from him. Paul fell into his car and that's where he remained.

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Sara looked up from her bed, watching Grissom as he watched her. She swallowed hard, "When I saw him in that car, I suddenly became aware...that maybe I had something to do with his death. Maybe I was the one who found him...took the antitoxin away from him."

Grissom frowned, letting her narrative sink in. Her educated guesses behind Paul's death seemed logical, but something about the last bit unnerved him. "Catherine said you went looking for someone. You claimed he was the one who saved you."

"Raji. His name was Raji," she stated woefully. She leaned forward and said with conviction, "I know this sounds crazy, Gris, but he found us. He carried Catherine back to that trailer. He gave her the antitoxin."

"You sound so sure. Just a moment ago, you told me it had to have been _you_ who took the antitoxin from Martinez."

Sara fell back into her bed, frustrated. "I don't know. I. . .I don't remember taking the antitoxin from Martinez. I was just assuming because Raji. . ."

She couldn't finish her final thought. She couldn't accept that Raji didn't exist. Not yet.

"Sara, when you fainted, you were very frail and very pale," Grissom pointed out. "You were suffering from dehydration and fatigue. Catherine said you were very disoriented for most of your ordeal out there and it's very possible that your short term memory didn't allow some of those events to stick. Lastly, we can't find this Raji anywhere nor can we find his grandfather. You want to know what I think?"

"You think I'm crazy," Sara scoffed, closing her eyes.

"No. I think you dreamed up the Raji tale to explain what happened to you," Grissom stated, feeling very sure of himself. "I also believe Paul never got the chance to inject himself. He died before he could. Remember, he was hours ahead of you. There's no way both of you could've stumbled upon that trailer at the same time. You carried Catherine as far as you could go. In your disoriented state, you veered from the road and luckily enough stumbled upon the trailer. You found Martinez dead and found the bottle. You saved Catherine, Sara. Not this fictitious Raji."

"I saved her?" Sara repeated warily.

"Yes, you did," he repeated with a soft smile. He did shrug and add, "There's still some mystery around the origins of the antitoxin, but as Jim put it, you were just damn lucky to have found it. I think this time, I can accept luck over the evidence."

Sara said flatly, "Yeah. Luck. I guess I can accept that too."

Of course, she was lying. It wasn't luck.

Grissom's story sounded good. It sounded really good. She could remember feeling disoriented, lost. She could remember the dizzy spells, the shocking shrieks of the eagle always startling her. She could especially remember the fatigue. Yes, based on her current physical condition, his story sounded really good. It just didn't sound true.

"Catherine can't wait to see you," Grissom smiled. "She's very worried about you."

To this Sara smiled, "She's doing okay?"

He nodded and rose from his chair, "The doctor wants to observe you both for the night, but by morning, I'm sure you'll both be given clean bills of health."

She watched him leave than let her smile slowly fade.

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The nurses fussed over Sara for nearly an hour the following morning, even though it was clear she didn't have any serious injuries. Aside from sore muscles and a whopping headache, she felt fine. All she really wanted was to find Catherine's room.

Finally allowed to leave, Sara practically jogged toward the designated room. Her heart rate picked up at the thought of seeing Catherine again after nearly ten hours of separation. And while that reaction may have confused her two days ago, nothing about the flutters racing through her chest puzzled her now. Raji was right. They were close. Maybe they were closer than either of them had known.

Sara paused, shaking her head. Raji. She kept speaking of him as if he were a real person. On the other hand, did she really believe that he was some kind of magical spirit? A miracle in disguise? A figment of her imagination?

"Sara Sidle?"

Sara turned around to spy a young man with a remarkable resemblance to the man that apparently didn't exist. Only difference being his much smaller stature and baby face. She furrowed her brow with intrigue, "Yes?"

"My name is Sam. I was the one who found the body near the trailer," he introduced himself, extending a hand. She took it and he shook it heartily. He smiled and told her calmly, "You're not crazy, Sara."

"Crazy?" Sara repeated with a light laugh. This man seemed to have Raji's uncanny intuition as well. "What are you talking about?"

"My father, Raji. I know you keep wondering whether or not he was real," Sam continued to beam at her cordially.

"Your father?" Sara repeated. "That's not what you told the police."

"I know, but believe that Raji _is_ my father. I held this information from your supervisor to keep my father's memory as quiet as the sands. Please, don't tell him." Sam pleaded. Before she could say anything in response to this, he handed her a newspaper. "That man, Paul, this paper was near his body and I took it from him. I know you frown upon such things, but these words were meant for your eyes, not his. Read this and than you'll understand. My father was a special man and he did help you last night. Eagle was his guide. Eagle helped him to save you."

Sara glanced at the aging paper in her hands, a part of her wanting to initiate protocol and turn this into evidence. A larger part didn't move at all. She returned her attention to Sam and asked quietly, "He was real?"

"As real as you and me," Sam promised, but added with a shrug, "He just only comes around when he's needed."

Sara shook her head, "I'm not sure I understand."

"It's not easy to explain. Sometimes, I'm not sure he's ever really there either," Sam admitted, then insisted. "Please. Read the article. I wish you all the best."

"I will and thanks," Sara smiled as she watched Sam walk away. She found a waiting room and took a seat in one of the chairs. She spread open the paper and began to read. First thing she noticed was the date. The paper was nearly four years old. The title of the article read "Local Medicine Man Found Dead in Desert". Sara could feel her chest getting tight as she saw Raji's name in the caption below his picture. Sadness washed over her immediately.

With a deep breath, she began to read aloud, "Raji was known as Reno's local medicine man and hero. Several tourists owed their lives to him, after he was able to administer antitoxins made from natural resources for dangerous insect bites. He was also known to craft splints out of raw materials for broken bones and use what he called "Eagle Medicine" to clean wounds and/or other injuries. Last Thursday, Raji set out and didn't return. His grandfather had said he heard the shriek of Eagle calling him; telling him his grandson was in danger. By the time he found Raji, he was already dead. The victim of several spider bites. The same illness he used to fight on a routine basis."

Sara paused, then repeated in complete disbelief, "Several spider bites?"

Just like Catherine.

With shaky hands, Sara folded up the paper and tried to stand, but fell back in her chair. She was dizzy, but thankfully not because of exhaustion or dehydration. This was a different kind of dizzy. A baffled dizzy. What was this Sam guy trying to say by giving her this paper? Sure it proved Raji was real, but it didn't explain how she saw him the previous night. It didn't confirm or deny anything for her concerning Paul or the antitoxin. Unfortunately, it also proved that Raji was dead and that was making Grissom's story sound better by the second.

"Sara?"

Sara looked up and saw her in the doorway. Catherine looked ten times better than last night. Maybe better than Sara could ever remember. Warrick and Greg were shadowing her, but stayed back as Catherine came toward her. Sara rose from her chair just as the blond reached her. "I heard you were hiding in here."

Sara nodded. Words were failing her, so she opted for something she rarely did. She wrapped her lanky arms around the other woman tightly, burying her face in a sea of blond hair and not caring if the two men across the room were watching with great shock and curiosity. She could feel the embrace being returned twofold, fingers gripping onto her back with such force, she began to wonder if the manicured nails would actually tear through the fabric of her shirt.

Sara finally pulled back, her voice returning, "I'm sorry...I just...I was just. . ."

"I know," Catherine cut her off, her eyes softening.

The boys finally approached them. Warrick was all smiles as he faced Sara, "So, I hear you're the one who carried Catherine over miles and miles of desert."

"Yeah, on your back," Greg chimed in, clearly proud.

Sara's eyes widened, surprised Catherine would even admit something like that to her confidant, let alone Greg Sanders. It took her a moment to respond, but she replied with a wary smile, "Uh, yeah. I had no choice, really."

"We definitely have to celebrate," Greg announced happily.

"Yeah, sure," Sara agreed, shoving her hands nervously into the pockets of her slacks. She frowned, suddenly realizing these were the same clothes from nearly three days ago. She glanced up with a sheepish smile, before requesting, "Can we stop by my place on the way? I _really_ have to change out of these clothes."

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The lab welcomed them back with open arms. A small party was set up for Sara in the breakroom, a small thank you from everyone for saving Catherine's life. Questions poured in from all around her. How did she do it? Didn't the desert sun drive her crazy? What was it like fighting Paul for the last drop of antitoxin? How did it feel to have to choose between his life and Catherine's?

Well, that last one was easy. Sara would've killed Paul to save Catherine, there was no doubt. However, the truth of the matter was that she didn't. She didn't kill Paul. She didn't wrestle the antitoxin away from him and she didn't carry Catherine to that trailer. Of course, she kept all these thoughts to herself. Sam and the newspaper were all the evidence she had of Raji's existence and both attested to his unfortunate death some four years prior. Trying to convince others that Raji did in fact save them would be nothing short of impossible.

In true Ecklie fashion, after about twenty minutes of commotion, he told everyone that crimes needed to be solved and that evidence waited for no one. He added his sentiments on their safe return much later in the day.

Back in the deep corner of the lab, Sara found herself immersed in the latest case. It felt good to be alone. Away from the questions and all the confusion that accompanied them. It felt good to be doing what she was meant to do: solving crimes. Carrying people on her back and involuntarily conjuring up dead people was most definitely something she didn't want to be forced to do again. Even still, it felt good to know that she was capable of much more than simply analyzing data off a computer screen. She did have the ability to save a life, if such a time ever arose again. A small smile of accomplishment emerged. Yes, for the first time since getting back home, a sense of pride overcame her. She was capable of doing much more.

"That looks good on you."

Sara's head snapped up from her work. Catherine was leaning in the doorway with her arms crossed. A slight twinkle in her eye. She looked absolutely beautiful.

Sara glanced down at her well worn lab coat and chuckled, "Um, what looks good on me?"

Catherine stepped in, "That smile. You don't smile enough."

Sara could sense there was more and she waited patiently. Catherine's lips were pressed tightly together as if trying to hold back any emotion. She took a deep breath before saying, "Sara, I never got a chance to say thank you. A _real_ thank you. You saved my life."

Sara tried to brush it off, her cheeks flushing, "I dunno what would've happened if . . .if. . ."

Catherine grew concerned and tried to coax the rest out of Sara, "If what, Sara?"

Sara couldn't fight the flustered emotions washing over her. She had almost mentioned Raji again. She amended, "I was so tired, Catherine."

"Hey, you told me that if you had to carry me another hundred miles, you would save me. You kept telling me to stay awake for you and I stayed awake for _you_, " Catherine pressed on.

Sara released a short, nervous laugh. "I didn't think you could hear me."

"Yeah, I heard you," Catherine confirmed, pulling Sara in for a hug. "You kept on believing in me. You have to know how much. . .Just thank you."

Sara smiled shyly, "You're welcome, Cath."

"And Sara, you know if the roles had been reversed, I would have done the same," Catherine rushed the words out, almost as if she were trying to convince a jury of her peers that she too could be trusted with someone's life. That she could be trusted specifically with Sara's life.

Sara was so engulfed in the sensation that was holding Catherine close to her, she almost forgot to answer. She whispered, "Yeah, I know."

It was the truth. Sara knew Catherine would've moved mountains for her, no question. In fact, that part of their relationship had never been up in the air. Sara trusted Catherine with her life, always had. They pulled back out of the hug slowly, reluctantly, as if ending this embrace would be the end of them forever.

Catherine's eyes held that same bit of intrigue and something else that Sara still couldn't identify. It was that something else that made Sara ask, "Catherine, what is. . .?"

"I don't know," was Catherine's immediate response. She could sense it too. Whatever shift that took place in their relationship, Sara was glad to know she wasn't the only one who felt it. Catherine flashed an abashed smile, putting a little space between them to ease up the tension that had started to build. She reached into her coat pocket and said, "I also wanted to give this back to you."

From her pocket she pulled up a beaded necklace. Sara's mouth fell open slightly realizing it was the same piece of jewelry Raji had draped around her neck! Sara managed to reach up and take it, the cool beads tingling her skin. If this necklace was real, than Raji. . .

"I saw it fall off when the EMTs picked you up off the ground," Catherine elaborated. "It looks to be handmade and I figured it was a special keepsake of yours. I made Gris grab it before we left."

"I, uh, thank you," Sara mumbled, her eyes finally meeting Catherine's. She smiled broadly and repeated, "Thank you. This does mean a lot to me. I'm glad it wasn't lost."

"No problem," Catherine grinned, than glanced at her watch. "Wanna go on break? Coffee's on me."

Sara grinned, "The coffee's free."

Catherine was already half way out the door as she insisted with a smile, "So, going on break with me or no?"

Sara put the necklace back on and shed her lab coat, "Yeah. A break sounds good."

--------------------------------------

They stood outside, the night sky a constant reminder of their desert plight. Only now, the Vegas skyline lit the vast black blanket from below and provided a strange sense of comfort and familiarity. They were home.

Sara felt a hand intertwine with hers. She turned her head to meet Catherine's gaze head on, her heart flittering in a crazy manner. She smiled as she tightened her hold on the other woman's hand. It was in that moment when she realized that _this _was home. Maybe Catherine had realized that too.

A sound grabbed her attention. She could've sworn she heard the screech of an eagle soaring high above them. She glanced up to find nothing but stars. Even though she couldn't spot the eagle, she knew it was there, somewhere. She knew this because it was just as Raji had said. Eagle soared close to the heavens. Eagle knew all. Eagle was always watching.

Everything will be fine once morning comes, she could hear him say. Only then can you understand.

**The End**

A/N: A big thank you to all of you for the reviews! I'm grateful when anyone decides to take time out of their day to read, let alone review, so all your kind words and your enthusiasm was awesome. Ya'll rock. Until next time, take care.


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